Flattered by Flowers

Songs of the Amaranthine, 8

Flattered by Flowers

Copyright © 2022 by FORTHRIGHT

ISBN: 978-1-63123-079-0

All Rights Reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored, or shared in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or any other—except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without the prior permission of the author. Which is a slightly more officious way of saying what I’ve always asked. Play fair. Be nice. But by all means, have fun! ::twinkle::

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Table of Contents

A Family to Support

Foreigners Have Strange Ways

House Under the Wisteria

Forage on the Slopes

Another Foreigner in Town

Always a Kind Word

We Are Their Sanctuary

Of Pigment and Paper

Where Tea Tastes Best

Two Kinds of Cake

Nothing Up This Sleeve

Some Boys Ride Dogs

House of Noble Flowers

No Wish to Unsettle

You Will Be Fine

Questionable Taste in Ballads

I See Her Everywhere

Safe and Happy Place

Entering the Back Way

Love at First Sight

Address Her with Respect

Always in the Audience

Takes After Her Mother

They Found Each Other

Through the Garden Door

We Should Talk More

Help Will Find You

There Is a Dragon

Lend Me the Sword

You Are Safe Now

Writhing Scales of Purple

Drift of Flower Petals

One of Four Storms

A Hand to Hold

When a Heart Breaks

Somebody Has to Remember

Can This Be Love

Tanuki Make Good Neighbors

Claim Me with Kisses

He Finds Her Decisive

Let Me Go Deep

Under the Camphor Tree

A Family to Support

Junpei knocked aside a couple of fist-sized stones and wedged his hoe under a larger, more stubborn one. When the call for workers had come in, clearing an overgrown road had sounded straightforward enough, but all these rocks and ruts had slowed down the whole process.

Putting his height to good use, Junpei pressed steadily. He took it slow. If the handle gave before the rock, he’d be in all kinds of trouble. Day laborers generally earned enough to put a meal on the table, but not much more. If he was careless, he’d lose a day or two, and Mother and Sho would go hungry.

“Come on,” he coaxed. “Cooome on out of there. Change can be good. The whole world will look different after today. Brighter than ever. With a whole new perspective.”

The foreman, who was working near Junpei, chuckled. “Sweet-talking the stones?”

“Whatever works.”

“If it does, I’ll start in myself. We’re running short on time.”

“When’s the family supposed to move in?”

“Oh, they’re here. Seems they arrived late yesterday. Though how they managed that, I couldn’t guess.”

Junpei straightened and looked along the road into Keishi, still thickly wreathed in morning mist. “It’s just this last part that’s really bad.”

“If we’re lucky, the head of the household will focus on the work we’ve done, not on the section left to do.”

“Maybe this is good,” suggested Junpei, facing the short jaunt of rough road ahead. “He’ll see for himself what state this was in … and appreciate his fine new road all the more.”

“Fair-minded folks like that are hard to come by. But if that’s how it turns out, I wouldn’t complain.” Sounds came from the direction of the house, and the foreman pivoted. “Keep at it. Here comes the owner.”

“Sure.” Junpei kicked at the stubborn stone with his heel, trying to rock it loose, but most of his attention was on the house. He was as curious as the next man. And the next. And the next.

The foreman noticed. “We’re paid to labor, you lot. So labor!”

Shouldering his shovel, the foreman strode off to greet the new owner of this creaking and crumbling estate beyond the farthest edge of Keishi. Junpei thought the distance was inconvenient, but the newly-arrived silk merchant must have taken a liking.

Junpei had looked around a little. There were fruit trees in every courtyard, and many were already blooming—plum and quince and cherry. He hoped the newcomers realized what treasures they were and tended them properly.

Once upon a time, this house and the surrounding lands had belonged to a daimyo, so the proportions were generous. In other words, too big to be practical. But according to local gossip, which Mother attended to with as much care as she lavished on her biwa, the Hoshina household was large enough to fill its rooms to brimming.

Exactly how many wasn’t known.

Nor could anyone say where they’d come from.

The family name was new to their area.

All anyone really knew was that the merchant had prospered elsewhere but wanted a fresh start. Mother thought it suspicious. He could be anyone, from anywhere. And why would he choose such a remote and ramshackle house?

Junpei didn’t care. What did it matter? All of Keishi would benefit from the addition of a rich family to the community. The Hoshinas had already made his life easier, providing weeks of steady income right at the end of a harsh winter.

That meant rice and fish and miso and pickles. And fresh milk for Sho, who’d hit a growth spurt and was always famished. After so many sparse meals, every evening felt like a feast.

Murmurs rippled through the line of workers, and the reason became clear. Foreman was standing right next to the newcomer, who had to be twice his height! The giant had long, reddish hair, and his voice boomed jovially. But he wasn’t speaking a language Junpei had ever heard.

Foreigners. Wouldn’t Mother be shocked?

Right beside Junpei, someone spoke, using more foreign words.

Junpei looked into the upturned face of a boy in his early teens, perhaps a little older than Sho. Or maybe not, given the height and girth of the head of the Hoshina household. The boy was strange, but in a comely way. Wavy red hair flowed past his shoulders, and there was a friendly light in his brown eyes.

He spoke again, touching his chest. “Quen … err. Ken Hoshina.”

“Good morning, Ken-kun.” Placing his hand over his heart, he said, “My name’s Junpei.”

“Junpei-san?” he checked.

“Yes.”

Ken next gestured to the rock that was giving Junpei trouble, and he said something more. The foreign words sounded like nonsense to Junpei.

“We’re moving stones.” It was probably silly to try to explain. He flattened his hand and waved it over the ground. “Your road is a mess, and that’s no good. Wouldn’t you rather have a smooth ride when you come into town?”

With a grin, Ken stuck the toe of his boot into the gap Junpei had made for his hoe and lifted. Carefully levering the stubborn stone out, he rolled it aside, exposing a sizeable hole. The rock had been bigger than it looked, which explained why it had been giving Junpei so much trouble. It didn’t explain how the boy had managed the task so easily.

Finding his voice, Junpei exclaimed, “Thank you, Ken-kun.”

The boy answered with a courteous expression, then jogged off to help the next guy.

Foreigners Have Strange Ways

Work went much more smoothly after that, because Ken wasn’t the only son of House Hoshina. More men emerged, each larger than the next. Conversation was limited to friendly smiles, basic greetings, and the exchange of names … except in the owner’s case. He moved from person to person along with one of the town elders, Hisoka Araki.

Maybe it was a foreign custom? Junpei knew from experience that important people only mingled with important people. This wealthy merchant should be taking tea with the leaders of Keishi, not getting to know men who couldn’t even boast a reliable source of income.

Junpei’s turn came.

“Hello, friend. Please excuse my clumsy words.” The greeting was big and broad and strangely accented. He offered an upturned palm. “I’m going by Hoshina.”

Araki explained, “The meeting of palms is traditional where Hoshina-dono comes from.”

Returning the greeting, he offered his name in return. “Welcome to the area, sir. You chose a good place. Have you seen the trees?”

Which sounded foolish as soon as he’d said it. They were surrounded by woods. You couldn’t miss the trees.

The big man looked curiously between him and Araki, who seemed to be acting as translator.

Hisoka Araki was respected and respectable. A town leader certainly didn’t mingle with people of Junpei’s ilk, but he hadn’t balked at addressing any of their crew. He had the poise of a diplomat, the air of a sage, and striking coloring. He seemed too young to be so thoroughly silvered.

After a brief exchange, which included an intriguing number of shifts in posture, Hisoka turned from Hoshina to ask, “Do you mean the trees in his gardens?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Are you perhaps a gardener?”

“No, no. Not me.”

“I see. My friend is also looking for carpenters. The existing buildings need repair, and he intends to add new walkways and pavilions.”

Hoshina was offering additional work? That was certainly good news for some of their crew, but Junpei shook his head. “I’m unskilled. I can dig and carry, but I cannot build.”

“I see.” They traded a few more words, and Araki smiled with real fondness at the big man. “He wants you to know that he chose this house in part because of the trees. You are welcome to visit his gardens anytime.”

“Me?”

“Yes, Junpei-san.”

“That is very generous. Thank you, Araki-san.”

“Sensei, if you wouldn’t mind.” He beckoned between them. “I prefer sensei.”

Was he a doctor? Or a scholar? Junpei had no guesses, but he ducked his head and murmured, “Araki-sensei.”

“Hisoka!” interjected the owner, who reeled out words like one who loved conversation. They flowed past Junpei without meaning, but he thought they were perhaps speaking about him.

Finally, Araki said, “My friend has taken a liking to you. If you have no other obligations, he wants to hire you. A day’s wage if you’ll spend your mornings here, doing odd jobs.

Junpei wasn’t sure he’d heard right. “Half days?”

“For a full day’s wage.” With a faint smile, Araki murmured, “Did I not say he’s taken a liking to you? I’m sure I did.”

Bowing low to both of them, Junpei exclaimed, “Thank you so much! I’ll be here!”

House Under the Wisteria

Junpei shouldered his hoe and began the long walk back into town. Their small house on the north end of Keishi wasn’t in the worst district. Kikusawa was a nice neighborhood, entirely respectable, even if they weren’t.

When Mother was young, she’d worked in one of those tearooms where a girl’s company could be purchased. With her beauty and her talent with the biwa, she’d secured the patronage of more than one admirer. Junpei’s father had made a present of their current home, lavishing its interior screens with his artistry. And in its miniscule garden, he’d planted a namesake wisteria.

It wasn’t Mother’s given name, but the one he’d used for her. Her working name. Sumire.

Mother considered its blooming branches a sign of that man’s eternal love and often sat playing in its shade. She made a lovely picture, framed by swaying purple flowers. Junpei had no doubt it was the exact scene his father had envisioned from the outset.

As if they were in one of his paintings.

One he’d lost interest in as soon as it was done.

That man had set Mother up, then walked away. Junpei often wished his father had been more pragmatic in his parting extravagance. A fruit tree would have given them more to eat.

“I’m home!” he called, kicking off his sandals.

Mother answered his greeting, hurrying forward and making him bend so she could kiss his cheek. He was nearly thirty, yet she still treated him like a little boy.

“You’re back early, Jun-kun.” Her voice was cultured, musical. But also concerned. “Is the job already done?”

“There is more to do,” he assured. “We finished early today because Hoshina-dono’s sons helped us. But they asked me back. I can still earn more.”

Mother relaxed a little. Then smiled her most charming smile. “You saw him? What was Hoshina-dono like?”

“A good man, I think. He has Hisoka Araki’s support.” Junpei quickly pivoted, asking, “Isn’t Sho home from school yet?”

“He went off with friends. You know how he is. Very like his father, in that way.”

Junpei had been fourteen when Mother fell pregnant again. She’d been unable to work any longer, so he’d stepped up, doing odd jobs to earn a few coins. Any work. Hard work. Dull work. Just … work.

Mother relied upon Junpei.

But Sho was indulged.

He wasn’t spoiled, exactly, but neither was he expected to dig up stones or labor in fields, even though Sho was nearing the age when Junpei began taking menial jobs. All the money Mother brought in from biwa lessons went toward Sho’s schooling. Because he really was very like his father—lively, likeable, and brimming with potential.

Sho attended classes.

Sho learned the biwa.

Sho had private tutors.

And at this hour, Sho should have been seated at their table, attending to his studies. But Junpei wouldn’t go find him and remind him of his duties. When it came right down to it, Junpei indulged his little brother, too. Or maybe he was being selfish. A carefree afternoon was something Junpei could appreciate. This was his first in many weeks.

“I’ll be in my room,” he murmured.

Mother smiled, stepped back, and bowed.

Junpei slid open the door to the cramped room that was his only scrap of privacy. Ducking through, he breathed deeply. Long and narrow, this space allowed him to stretch to his full length when it was time to pull out his futon. But whenever he was here during waking hours, this was his workshop.

A far cry from his father’s atelier.

But Junpei pushed aside the wooden shutters that took up half of one wall, leaving only the paper screen between him and the garden. Light suffused the space, and he smiled at the lineup of paper parasols awaiting his brush. He’d only managed to finish two yesterday, and those by lamplight. Daylight was better for this sort of work.

As the sound of Mother’s biwa started in the next room, Junpei tied back his sleeves and started mixing his paints.

He sold these parasols to a friend of Mother’s who ran a shop. So it counted as work, even if it didn’t bring in much money. Because paints were costly, and paper was hard to come by. But he kept at it, perhaps because in some ways, he was very like his own father.

This was the only work Junpei ever looked forward to.

No, it was more than that.

The planning, the procurement, the patience required. The meditative calm, the sweeping brush strokes, the bloom of paint. All of it, every part.

Art was the first thing Junpei had ever loved.

Forage on the Slopes

Junpei quietly worked his way upward, moving from tree to tree. This time of year, they could gather edible shoots and spring greens to supplement their diet. Mother was originally from a mountain village to the north, and she’d passed along her people’s wisdom to Junpei. Many sansai—edible spring plants—flourished on the slopes below Kikusawa Shrine.

Sho was with him today. Mother had insisted, not that his younger brother had resisted. He was twelve and always hungry. Even now, he foraged with a hosta shoot between his teeth.

“Find any butterbur, yet?” Junpei asked.

“Plenty!” Sho backtracked to display the contents of his shallow basket, which also included fern fiddlers and mustard greens. “Wish it wasn’t too soon for mushrooms. They’re more filling.”

“We should look for those leeks Mother favors.”

“There’s a patch higher up.”

“There is.”

With a grin, Sho announced, “I’m going on ahead.”

As he scrambled higher, Junpei shook his head. It hadn’t been all that long ago that he’d been teaching his little brother which plants were safe to eat. Now, Sho was acting like the expert.

Junpei angled upward, searching for the spring chrysanthemums he liked while gathering more fiddlers.

They were pretty high here, well above the rooftops of their neighborhood. As far as Junpei could tell, nobody else foraged here. Maybe it was simple ignorance. Maybe it was respect for the shrine grounds. Junpei hadn’t ever felt guilty about taking the greens he carried away. If animals could browse these slopes, why not them?

A flutter of movement caught his eye, and he glanced up.

Flower petals drifted down from somewhere atop the hill.

It was beautiful.

Junpei set his back to the nearest tree and watched the silent swirl of white petals. Plum blossoms. He remembered the stand of fruit trees in one of Kikusawa Shrine’s many courtyards. And the central courtyard, where an enormous sacred tree flowered.

He wasn’t particularly devout, so he didn’t climb the long stairs to the hilltop shrine very often. The last time he’d been there in springtime was when he’d gone to pray for a blessing and purchase a charm to ensure a safe pregnancy for Mother.

The shrinekeeper had patiently walked him through the process. Junpei had liked Matsu Miyabe straight away. A good man. They still traded greetings sometimes, though more often in the neighborhood below the shrine than atop the hill.

Maybe Junpei should pay a visit again, soon. He could purchase a charm for Sho, a blessing for his studies.

A subtle fragrance beckoned from above, and Junpei was tempted to climb higher, just to get closer.

He checked to see where Sho had gotten to.

His brother was easy to spot in his yellow half-coat. Sho stood at the very top of the slope, gazing at something—or someone—on the shrine grounds. Junpei doubted that the boy was admiring the gardens. Shrine maidens, maybe? Sho was getting to be that age.

Junpei decided to turn back and worked his way downhill. There was a rock not far from the verge, his favorite spot to sit and wait. He’d always felt a little sneaky there, because it afforded a view of the road, but passersby couldn’t see well into the trees.

Since they lived nearby, Junpei knew many of them. Neighbors or notables.

Again, he glanced Sho’s way. His brother was on his way down. That was good. They’d have a feast for their midday meal.

Then he looked back at the road, and his breath caught.

A lady was walking past, and her kimono was a masterpiece of springtime. Junpei thrilled at the pattern and stared hard, trying to memorize the bow and bend of each branch and the lavish scattering of plum blossoms.

She stopped short and turned his way.

Her parasol tilted back, and Junpei was looking straight into a pair of wide eyes that were the most remarkable shade of blue. Could she see him? It seemed so. His pulse quickened, and his cheeks heated. He hadn’t meant to be rude.

Pressing a hand to his heart, he dragged his gaze away and dipped his head.

When he stole a peek, she touched her own heart, inclined her head, and walked on.

The only thing he could think was that it was a shame her parasol was plain. If Junpei had been carrying his paintbox, he could have adorned it in a matter of minutes and returned it to her hand, a bower of plum blossoms.

Sho reached him, then, and crowded onto the stone seat. “What’s the matter? Why’re you gawping?”

“There was a woman just now. With a parasol.”

“Oh, yeah?” His younger brother leaned forward, looking up and down the road. “Was it one of your parasols?”

“No.” Junpei would have liked to see that. Very much. “She was beautiful. Like a flower.”

Sho elbowed him. “Love at first sight?”

“That would be foolish.”

“You didn’t deny it!” his brother teased. “You must be in love. I’m going to tell mother.”

Junpei dragged Sho into a headlock. “And that would be folly.”

“Her favorite kind!”

“It’s not love. How could it be? I have no idea who she is.” He roughed up his brother’s light brown hair, which was curly enough to defy combing, then picked out a few flower petals. Most were pink. A few were tiny and red. “What were you looking at? Up there?”

Sho hesitated. “There was a man I’ve never seen before.”

Junpei hummed in mild interest. “What did he look like?”

His brother opened his mouth, then hesitated. With a bewildered expression, he said, “I don’t remember.” 

Another Foreigner in Town

Junpei was on his way home from work a few days later when a woman hailed him in the street. Well, not him specifically. The rest scattered before her, but when he stood his ground, she veered his way.

She was a foreigner, and she was tall.

He was considered tall by local standards. When neighbors needed to reach something from a high shelf or rescue a cat from a tree branch, they generally sent for Junpei. Others were taller, but they were also surlier. Having a good temper had led to Junpei being considered a neighborhood resource.

This lady surpassed his height by a handsbreadth or more, and she was scowling. She addressed him in commanding tones, but her hands were spread in a peaceable gesture.

“I’m sorry,” he offered. “I don’t know your words.”

She tried a few phrases, but Junpei could only shake his head.

The woman huffed moodily, and he felt bad for her. She needed a translator like Hoshina-dono did. But he wondered if it was wise to lead a stranger all the way out to their estate. And he wasn’t sure where to find Hisoka Araki. Someone closer would be better. 

Patting his chest, he announced, “Junpei.”

She sighed and tapped her own shoulder. “Anna.”

“Anna-san.” With a respectful bow, he gestured toward the hilltop that dominated Kikusawa. “I’ll lead you to our shrinekeeper. He’s a vastly more learned man. He may know your words.”

She eyed him skeptically.

Hers was a weighty gaze.

Bowing again, he backed toward their destination. “Follow me, Anna-san. Help is this way.”

With a harrumph, she fell in step beside him.

Anna wasn’t just tall. Her skin was quite light, as was the hair that had been cropped close to her head, and her eyes glinted like green ice. Her clothes were similarly strange, and she carried several weapons. Now that he considered the matter, Junpei wondered if he was wise, going off with this stranger.

She met his gaze and arched her brows.

“I’m sorry to stare. It’s a bad habit of mine.” Gesturing toward the long row of red-painted gates that framed the stairway to Kikusawa Shrine, he said, “We climb. All the way to the top.”

Anna’s expression turned incredulous.

He could understand why.

Even he had to duck his head under most of the torii. She’d have to stoop the entire way. “I wonder if you’ll understand …?” Junpei tapped the top of his head, then lifted a hand before his face to signal apology. Grimacing, he moved a few paces beyond the stairs and parted the shrubbery, saying, “So sorry, Anna-san. I know it’s a bother, so I prefer this route. Will it do for you?”

She smirked and waved for him to lead on.

Always a Kind Word

Junpei wasn’t sure how their ascent turned into a race, but Anna easily outpaced him, despite being in unfamiliar territory. She was smiling by the time they burst out of the greenery and into the courtyard at the top. To think, a little friendly competition had banished her scowl. She was a strange one.

“We’re looking for the shrinekeeper now,” he explained. “Matsu Miyabe. This is his home.”

“Matsu?” she echoed, scanning the gardens.

He wasn’t sure how to explain that given names were too personal to use without permission. “Miyabe-san,” he corrected. “To be respectful, Miyabe-san.”

She simply grunted again. It had the feel of an affirmative.

Junpei wondered where the man would be at this time of day. Aiming for the central shrine, he peered into each little garden they passed. Alleys ran between storehouses as well. And there was a sprawling house, fairly bursting at the seams, Matsu kept it so full.

Another idea struck. If Matsu didn’t know Anna’s words, Junpei could try at his favorite teahouse. But he wasn’t sure if the proprietor should be anybody’s first impression of Keishi. Perhaps one of Matsu’s children could carry a message to Hisoka Araki?

Someone caught his attention. He was standing beside the tree that dominated the hilltop. Full sleeves and billowing hakama. Long, dark hair, left loose. And a crown of flowers as red as the torii gates.

Who could it be?

“Junpei!” hailed a familiar voice.

Relieved, he hurried to meet the man they needed. Matsu Miyabe was known throughout Keishi as a learned man with a love for books. Visitors to their city would come here just to see him, and according to local gossip, of which Mother stayed abreast, Matsu could speak four languages.

“I found a lady,” Junpei managed, before Anna barged in to speak for herself.

Matsu’s surprise faded into his usual genial expression, and Junpei was nearly as relieved as the lady herself. He’d chosen well. The shrinekeeper knew her words.

Their conversation left him out, and he was trying to decide if he should just excuse himself when Matsu turned to him.

“Junpei, do you mind helping my boys in the eastern storehouse? Little Kenzou was just telling me that there are cobwebs he can’t reach.”

With a rueful smile, Junpei said, “If my height can do you some good, I’m happy to lend a hand.”

“Sho is with them,” Matsu added. “He’s here most afternoons.”

Junpei’s surprise must have shown. His brother was supposed to be studying most afternoons. He and mother were working hard to give him the tools to follow in his novelist father’s footsteps. Since they were so similar. Since Sho seemed perfectly suited.

“He’s welcome, of course. A fine lad.” Matsu watched his face with sympathy. “Did you know he’s been helping Taiki and Masao with their mathematics? And the little ones beg for him to read.”

“I didn’t know.”

The man stepped closer and gripped his elbow. “Sho is growing into a fine man. Like you.”

Junpei tucked his chin and wished—not for the first time—that he’d had a father like Matsu. Was it any wonder Sho lingered here? “Will you be able to help Anna-san?”

“She and I will have tea and talk some more. You did well to bring her to me. Thank you.”

“I’ll go and find my brother. Since you have a guest. Or … guests? Who was the man I saw earlier?” Junpei looked off toward the tree. “He seemed tall, but not skinny like me. And he dressed like you, but … differently. Somehow.”

Matsu’s eyebrows jumped. “Is that so?”

Junpei was beginning to feel foolish. It had just happened, but the memory was already fuzzy. “I think he had long hair, but that would be strange. Did I imagine it?”

“You have good eyes.” The shrinekeeper’s smile was back. “It’s all right, Junpei. You must have spotted Kusunoki. I guess you’d say he’s a childhood friend. We grew up together, and even now, he’s like a brother to me. He’s often hereabouts, but most people don’t notice.”

“Oh? That must be lonesome.” Junpei felt as if he’d trespassed on something private.

“He keeps to himself. Should I pass along your greetings?”

“Please. If it won’t trouble him …?”

Matsu chuckled. “It’ll probably amuse him. Really, it’s fine, Junpei. Either way.”

Confused, he echoed, “Either way?”

“Whether you remember or not. Don’t feel bad. He isn’t the lonesome sort.”  

We Are Their Sanctuary

Anna Green gazed after the man who’d been her guide. Junpei hadn’t quailed before her, and he’d brought her to the best possible sanctuary. Matsu Miyabe was a member of the In-between, and he spoke English. But most heartening, perhaps, was the way he’d called her “daughter.”

Just that.

One word.

How had it worked so swiftly into her soul, assuring her that she was safe?

Anna’s training since childhood meant she possessed strength, resilience, and the skills to incapacitate human opponents and render most Amaranthine insensate. She was strong. The best of her generation. Mentors and members of her allotment boasted on her behalf, and while they meant well, all their praise and pride had only added up to trouble.

“That man,” she said, indicating Junpei. “He is not a reaver?”

“No. At least, he wasn’t born into the In-between.” The shrinekeeper gazed up into her face. “But you were, Miss Green?”

She squared her shoulders. “Battler class.”

“Will you be offended if I ask your age?”

“Eighteen.” And because he seemed to have guessed, she awkwardly added, “Almost.”

“Are you here to attend Ingress Academy?”

Anna hesitated. “There is a school here?”

“You didn’t know?”

Any further inquiry was sidetracked by the reappearance of Junpei, who hefted a broom while chasing four children out of one of the nearby buildings. His battle cry was pitiful. Instead of inspiring fear, it sent his prey into shrieks of laughter.

“I cannot tell who is mocking whom,” she murmured.

“They’re playing,” said Matsu, whose smile was indulgent. “Things are different for children in the public sector, but they still crave a mentor’s participation and approval.”

“And what do they learn from Junpei?”

“Who can say? We all take something from each other, even as we give something back. That is community.”

Anna grunted. “Are those your children?”

Matsu seemed surprised by the question, but turning to look at the group, his expression cleared. “They’re mine, most by choice rather than by birth. Ah. Except for Sho. That one there is Junpei’s younger brother.”

The boy stood out, for his smile was the brightest, his laugh the most contagious. A leader, but the sort who carried his allotment into mischief rather than battle. But one thing puzzled her. “You do mean that boy, with the lighter hair?”

Though all the other children had smooth, black hair—including Junpei—Sho’s was a rough halo of brown waves.

“Yes, that’s Sho.”

“There is little resemblance to Junpei.”

“They share a mother.”

He left it at that. Half-brothers, then. But she wasn’t clear on the rest. “Your children are not your own? Are you fostering for other reavers?”

“No. Those I took in are unendowed—either orphans or abandoned. They needed a home, occupation, education. We do what we can to bring them up, then apprentice them to families here in Kikusawa. Or to nearby farms, if that suits them better.”

“You run an orphanage?”

“Not officially.” Waving off her admiration, he repeated, “We do what we can.”

Anna asked, “You hold classes?”

“Certainly.”

“May I join?” Her chin lifted. “I need to learn the language. They can be my teachers.”

“A fine idea,” he agreed amiably enough. “But that’s not why you came …?”

“Well … no.”

“You would be more at home with other students at the academy. I can introduce you to the administrators, and they would give you a place.”

“No. Miyabe was the name I was given. You are the holy man I needed to find.”

“Again, may I ask why?”

She adjusted her posture to plead with him. “An old friend told me that your home was the only place I would be able to find the information I seek.”

“You want books?”

“Lore.”

Matsu nodded slowly. “We do have a collection.”

Anna boldly added, “And a weapon.”

“That’s not widely known.” He considered her solemnly. “I would even say it’s unknown.”

“I can explain.” With a glance in the direction of Junpei and his tagalongs, she lowered her voice. “Please, let me explain?”

“Certainly.”

Weariness and worries pressed down, and she sagged under their weight. “I am in a difficult position. Pursued by dragons.”

“What do they want from you?”

She scowled. “Friendship was not their goal.”

Matsu looked shocked. “Are they fools to press a battler?”

“It is strangely difficult to refuse a dragon, even when his proposals are entirely unwelcome.” Swallowing hard, she admitted, “A truer friend extricated me and sent me on ahead. He gave the name Miyabe. He spoke of the Chrysanthemum Blaze.”

Gesturing for secrecy, Matsu quietly demanded, “What friend?”

Anna couldn’t help smiling a little. Her mentor inspired them, even from afar. “He is called Opal the Sage.”

Of Pigment and Paper

“Jun-kun?” Mother pushed a dish of pickles closer to him. “Do me a favor?”

He’d barely returned from his morning’s work at the Hoshina estate, where he’d been little more than an errand boy. Even so, Junpei waited for new orders.

“You like going to his atelier, anyhow … don’t you?”

His heart sank as Mother slid a folded letter across the table. All he said was, “It’s been a while.”

She brightened.

Not until the meal was over and his hands were clean did he touch that letter. And not until he was halfway across the city did he allow himself a twinge of envy over the quality of the paper. Mother must have paid one of her old acquaintances to write it for her. Such things were costly, and coins were dear.

Junpei only allowed himself a little money for paper and pigments. Usually, just enough to complete the next order. It was tempting to spend more, to indulge his passion, but he was strict with himself.

Hobbies were for other, wealthier households. Yes, they paid well for Sho’s schooling, and money went into keeping Mother’s biwa in good repair. But just like Junpei’s artistry, which was considered an extravagance by gossipy neighbors, everything was tied to his family’s livelihood.

They existed on the fringes of luxury, the spurned mistress and her mismatched bastards.

By longstanding arrangement, messages to Junpei’s father were carried to the back door of his atelier. These days, it was the only reason Junpei ever came here. Back when he was just a kid, Mother had wheedled him an apprenticeship of sorts.

Even then, Junpei had been in awe of the grand screens and wall scrolls for which his artist father was famous. Lavish and lively. They felt like home. And he’d yearned to try his hand.

He’d scrubbed floors and run errands more than anything, but he’d also learned how to mix pigments, grind ink, and hold a brush. And he’d learned what it meant to be a bastard.

Father barely spared him a glance.

He was often away—dining with clients, pandering to patrons, or spending time with his true family. Because the man had legitimate sons, and two of them were properly acknowledged apprentices. Junpei preferred not to meet them, even as they would have preferred that he didn’t exist.

For years, Junpei had relied on scraps and stubs and the dregs of paint pots. And somehow, on that meager charity, Junpei found his way.

Early on, he’d wanted to show that man what he’d done, what he could do. A mistake, in hindsight. With no warning, Junpei found himself banished from the atelier—apprenticeship over, lessons ended, access denied. Yet Junpei had gone skulking back. How could he give up, now that he knew what he could do?

Prideful sire.

Jealous heirs.

Desperate son.

Junpei returned to the atelier, a beggar at the back door. And he’d found an ally in one of his father’s employees. Yami-san had been a small man with soft eyes, in charge of flower arrangements. At odd hours, when Father wasn’t on the premises, Junpei would steal in.

The sympathetic man would bring out scraps of paper, unwashed dishes holding remnants of paint, and a pot of tea. Then the fellow would sit across the table from Junpei and watch him work.

They chatted some, usually about art. He recommended places to go—public gardens and parks, flower shops and shows. He’d been the one to suggest visiting the bookseller’s booth where Junpei sometimes loitered. And that discovery led to another, since the way home from Naoki’s led past the little tearoom Junpei visited whenever he had coin to spare.

He dared to hope that his old friend Yami-san would answer his knock.

But no. It was one of the sons, his expression sour.

Stifling a sigh, Junpei proffered the letter and resigned himself to a long, uncomfortable wait.

Where Tea Tastes Best

Junpei trudged homeward.

Whatever message Mother had sent, it had certainly garnered a response. Father had thrown open the back door, looked Junpei up and down, and slung a knotted bag against his chest. The glitter of annoyance in his eyes contradicted the weight of the purse. The door snapped shut again, without either man saying a word.

It felt like a lot of money.

Last time, she’d wanted enough to repair her biwa. Once, Junpei knew she’d begged for painted silk in which to array herself. Father had indulged that whim with a superior sort of pride. And far more grace than he’d shown today. Junpei rubbed at his breastbone, which still smarted.

He didn’t understand their relationship. Honestly, he didn’t want to. Junpei could only assume that Mother knew when and how far it was wise to push the man.

Leaving the loftier parts of Keishi behind, he eased into the comfortable familiarity of his own neighborhood … and paused. Twice recently, his favorite tearoom had come to mind. Today, more than any other day, Junpei deserved a little comfort. So he put off his return home, intent on indulging himself at Moonglade Tearoom.

That’s when he spotted her again.

A cascade of plum blossoms and startlingly blue eyes.

She lifted her parasol, and Junpei could see her arranged hair. Such light brown was an unusual color; Sho could attest to that. But Junpei thought it was beautiful … and knew he shouldn’t be staring.

With a quizzical smile, the woman walked his way.

He wanted to hide. He wanted to speak. He needed to breathe.

“For you,” she said, holding out something.

Tongue-tied, Junpei lifted both palms to receive it, then watched her graceful retreat into the shop right next door to Moonglade Tearoom. He knew it well enough. The House of the Noble Chrysanthemum sold traditional sweets. The wrapped block in his hand must have been a sample. Should he follow her inside? Maybe ask for her name?

But then a tall man leaned out of the tearoom door and called, “You coming my way, Junpei? Perfect timing! I need a man of your talents!”

“Good afternoon, Paltry-san.” Junpei tucked the sweet into his sleeve, spared the shop a final glance, and crossed to Moonglade’s owner. “Most seem to think my only talent is being tall. Yet in this, you have me beat.”

Paltry dominated any room, a good head and shoulders taller than every man in Kikusawa, if not all of Keishi. He was clearly a foreigner, though he’d adopted local styles, and his Japanese was flawless. Water lilies decorated today’s kimono, and his hairstyle employed a great many combs. Junpei wondered if the man didn’t know that he sometimes adopted women’s fashion … or if he simply didn’t care.

“Just Paltry, please. We’re friends, aren’t we?”

“As often as I can manage.” Junpei only stopped in once or twice a month, barely often enough to be considered a regular, let alone to put them on a first-name basis.

Paltry wrapped an arm around Junpei’s shoulders and guided him inside. “I have an unexpected guest. An old friend from my homeland just moved into the area. If you’ll practice with him, your tea and snacks will be complementary, today. All you want. No charge.”

“Practice?”

“Japanese. He’s learning the language. Can you spare him some time? For me?”

Junpei murmured his agreement, hardly believing his good fortune. Moonglade’s tea was excellent, and their snacks were unlike anything he’d tasted before. Pastries, Churlish called them. And he could eat as much as he wanted?

A chair scraped back, and a man stood to offer a greeting.

He was nearly as tall as Paltry, and Junpei had seen him before. He was part of Hoshina-dono’s household and was often in the company of young Ken.

“This is my good friend, Laud.”

Junpei nodded, then shook his head. That wasn’t the name he’d been given before. Neither did the man look the same. More baffled than anything, Junpei blurted, “Why is your hair white?”

Two Kinds of Cake

“Hold that thought,” said Paltry, who firmly guided Junpei toward a chair. “Sit right here, and just … hold on. I have an answer for that, and I’m pretty sure it’s a good one. Churlish!”

Junpei stood his ground, unsure he wanted the seat.

The boy who ruled over the tearoom’s kitchen arrived, and Junpei gaped at him, too. Had everyone’s hair changed color?

“He can see me.” Churlish brushed suddenly-silver hair behind an ear, which now came to a point.

“So it seems,” agreed Paltry.

With a small shrug, Churlish asked, “Do you still want cake? I made two kinds.”

Junpei looked to Paltry for some help in understanding what was going on, only to find that the man’s eyes were similarly changed. “Silver?” he whispered.

“You noticed. Well, I’m not entirely surprised. You’ve always had a bit of shine.” Paltry’s voice was pitched to soothe. “You’re taking all of this rather well.”

“Am I?” Half to himself, Junpei asked, “Should I be?”

“Yes. You like new things, don’t you?” Paltry promised, “You’re one of the bravest men in Kikusawa, if not all of Keishi.”

Was he? He didn’t see how.

Something moved in Junpei’s periphery.

It was a tail. Paltry’s tail.

“Peace, friend. We are friends, remember?” And raising his voice slightly, Paltry called, “Can somebody send for Matsu?”

Churlish must have gone into the kitchen, again, because he now carried a tray. Peering up into Junpei’s face, he asked, “Are you afraid of me? That would be silly.”

“I don’t think so …?”

“Good. Sit here, across from Laud. Or are you afraid of him?” Another long look, this one chiding. “That would probably make him sad.”

Junpei nodded. Then shook his head. He’d lost track of the question he needed to answer. “Your eyes are silver now. So strange.”

Churlish frowned. “Where I come from, everyone has silver eyes. Where you come from, everyone has brown eyes. Mostly.”

“Do you come from far away?”

“It did not seem so at the time. Do you like lakes?”

“I’m … not sure …?”

“You like cake, though.” Churlish moved a teapot and cups from his tray to the table, where Laud sat with gaze downcast. “There are two kinds of cake today, but I know how to make lots of other kinds.”

Junpei murmured, “I believe you.”

“And there are lots more than two kinds of people. I am one kind. Paltry is another kind. And you have always been nice to us.” Churlish tugged and pushed, getting Junpei to sit before asking, “Will you stop, now that you know we are a different kind of people?”

“You think I’m nice?”

Rolling his eyes, Churlish said, “You eat my pastries, and you do not mind that they are different. And you talk to Paltry, even though he is big and wild and has a tail. I like black fur. Do you?”

“I’m not sure,” he repeated.

Churlish poured tea for him and for the one he called Laud. “Do you want me to tell him what you said? He does not know much Japanese, and he is very confused.”

“So am I.”

“When people are confused, they should talk. I know.” And then he spoke to Laud in another language. Not for long. Just a sentence or two. Turning back to Junpei, Churlish said, “I told him you asked about his hair.”

Laud was looking at him now. And his eyes were changed.

Junpei leaned across the table, intrigued by the color. “There are stories about people falling in among strange folk. Are you youkai?”

“No. The clans may have inspired your stories, though.” Paltry crouched beside the table and relayed, “More people are coming. People you trust. They can explain.”

“Or … I could make him forget,” suggested another.

Junpei saw Paltry’s tail puff and settle as a stranger strolled into their midst. This one had white hair, too.

“You?” exclaimed Churlish. “What are you doing here?”

“Incidental matters have somehow overlapped in a confluence of destinies. Do not scowl so. It gives the wrong impression.” And to Junpei, he genially added, “I am an old friend. No need to fear. Neither them, nor me.”

As if Junpei ever could. He couldn’t imagine being afraid of anyone here.

“Entirely susceptible,” remarked the newcomer. “Would you like me to … unburden him with regards to today’s discoveries?”

Junpei hardly knew what to think when Churlish flung slender arms around his shoulders and hugged him tightly. He wasn’t alarmed, exactly. But in some distant part of his mind, he knew this was highly unusual.

Scowling, the boy demanded, “Leave him alone! Junpei is our friend!”

Paltry acted so quickly, Junpei didn’t see him move. He loomed over the stranger, one hand covering his mouth.

And … there seemed to be a rumble in the air. Almost like a growling animal. Which probably should have been scary, but Junpei knew there was no need to fear. Somehow.

Gently pushing aside Paltry’s hand, the newcomer said, “That will do, maid-boy. Call off your wolf. I will not meddle where I am unneeded.” He bowed to Junpei, possibly in apology. “My name is Opulence Windlore, renowned the world over as Opal the Sage.”

To Junpei’s surprise, Paltry wrapped an arm around the sage’s shoulders, pulling him into a rough hug and dropping a kiss atop his head. “How is our favorite bard?”

Quite the change in attitude.

“Passable, though muddling through pressing matters. Have any of you caught wind of a young lady of my acquaintance? She is fair enough to stand out in these parts. Tall. Blonde. Battler-bold.”

Junpei whispered, “Anna?”  

All eyes swung his way, and he did his best to huddle behind Churlish.

Suddenly, Opal was at his shoulder, and his words were sweet. “Tell me where she is.”

“With me!” Matsu leaned against the entry, puffing slightly, as if he’d been running. “Anna Green is safe with me.”

“And you are?” inquired the sage.

With a quick glance around the room, Matsu sought Junpei’s gaze and promised, “I’m this man’s friend.”

Nothing Up This Sleeve

Before any more could be said, another man shouldered into the room, although at this point, Junpei wasn’t entirely sure that they were men. Had he fallen in among gods or demons?

An already-familiar booming voice, thick with concern, was asking questions. Someone had sent for Hoshina-dono? The silk merchant cut off at the sight of him and hurried to kneel beside Junpei’s chair.

“My little brother.” He indicated Laud, though his gaze never wavered. “He called for help.”

Brothers? Nobody had explained their connection. There was a definite resemblance. They had the same eyes.

“Junpei?” Hoshina-dono touched his arm.

The big man was so gentle, but the claws were such a surprise, Junpei stiffened.

“Him, too,” interjected Opal. “Nothing to fear from the likes of Harmonious. Calm yourself, young man. You are among friendly folk.”

Reassuring words. Junpei already felt better. Why had he been uneasy, even for a moment?

“None of that,” growled Paltry.

“A simple palliative. Would you rather he fainted?” To Hoshina-dono, Opal added, “Every one of our illusions has dropped. He sees you. Quite plainly.”

The big man’s expression softened. “I’m sorry, Junpei. Are you all right?”

“Yes,” he managed.

“My little brother was afraid for you.”

Junpei looked to Laud. “I worry about my little brother, too.”

Hoshina-dono scanned the room, then switched to his own language.

“He wants to know what happened,” relayed Churlish, who lofted a tray as he scooted around Hoshina-dono, setting it between Junpei and Laud. “Cake. You should eat some. It is good. And I know everything.”

“What do you claim to know, maid-boy?” inquired Opal the Sage.

“Wolves are simple.”

“Granted …?” Paltry’s tail took to swaying.

Churlish stuck his nose in the air. “Dragons are sly.”

Opal merely hummed.

“Cats have secrets.”

From the direction of the door, another familiar voice remarked, “Quite the crowd, today, Paltry. Has something happened?”

“Hisoka!” called Hoshina-dono. “This lad …!”

“I was not finished,” grumbled Churlish.

“We’re listening,” soothed Paltry. “Go ahead.”

“Wolves are simple. Dragons are sly. Cats have secrets.” Churlish drew himself up and finished, “Tanuki play pranks.”

Hoshina-dono frowned, and Hisoka Araki inquired, “Are you having trouble with tricksters?”

Paltry blinked. “I wouldn’t say trouble.”

“They make good neighbors,” said Churlish.

Opal said, “His sleeve, I believe.”

Hoshina-dono bent closer. Junpei had never been sniffed before. He looked to Churlish for support.

The boy rolled his eyes and wisely said, “Dogs are even simpler than wolves.”

“Harmonious wouldn’t hurt a soul,” assured Paltry.

Junpei was pretty sure he was calling the head of the Hoshina family by name. The unfamiliar syllables were baffling.

“You’re right, Sage,” murmured Hoshina-dono. “It’s here. Junpei, what do you have up your sleeve?”

Some Boys Ride Dogs

Anna resisted the suggestion that she hide away at Ingress Academy. Opal had been very specific. The things she needed most would be found here, at Kikusawa Shrine. So she stayed, even though its many children shied away from her. All except Sho, who had his older half-brother’s courage. Thanks to Sho, Anna was making a little progress with the language.

Simple phrases. Too basic to touch the complexities weighing on her heart and mind.

She could say please and thank you, and she could apologize. But she could not warn these children to beware of dragons. And though Matsu understood her, she didn’t know him well. How could she confide the fears that kept her awake at night? What kind of battler quaked and quailed at every change in the wind?

Frustration drove her to establish routines. Even in unfamiliar territory, she could stick to her training and maintain a boundary. So Anna donned her weapons and patrolled—carefully, quietly, and always out of view, lest her differences cause a panic.

Moving stealthily through the trees that grew thick on the shrine’s slopes, she allowed herself to relax into familiar rhythms. Slow steps. Deep breaths. She stretched her senses, searching for any hint of an oncoming threat … and entirely missed a nearer one.

A massive animal broke cover, and she had it at swordpoint before she registered lustrous red fur and wide copper eyes.

The Kith held quite still.

Anna did, too, and not entirely by choice. There was a staying hand at her wrist and a soft voice coming from the vicinity of her elbow.

“Please, do not hurt Rise.”

The moment she relaxed, the boy released her and returned to the Kith, leaping lightly onto his back. A dog. Anna hadn’t realized there were any dog clans in this part of the world. Then it registered. The boy spoke English.

“Peace,” she offered, sheathing her blade. “And apologies.”

He immediately brightened. “Do you live here? We are new.”

“I arrived recently, and I am staying here for now.” She indicated the shrine. “Your Kith is a dog?”

“Yes. We are Starmarks.” Though he didn’t go so far as to offer his hands, the boy said, “I am Quen. This is Rise.”

“Peace,” she repeated, offering a vastly more polite introduction. “Not many people in this city speak English.”

“There are more than you might think. Da moved our whole clan here, and we know your language. Others, too.”

“What brings a clan of dogs to Keishi?”

“Matchmaking. Mostly.” Quen’s expression was too solemn for him to be joking.

“Seeking ties?” she ventured, trying to recall which wolf packs were nearby.

“Avoiding them.” With a subtle shift in posture, he asked, “What about you, Anna Green? What brings you to Keishi?”

“Trouble. Mostly.” She quietly admitted, “I have seen no signs of pursuit, but I suppose I am on edge.”

“What kind of trouble are you in?”

Anna might not normally have confided in one so young, but Quen had to be several times her own age, despite appearances. And it was so nice to be able to confide at all. “I ran from that trouble, and I sought sanctuary here.”

Quen’s gaze lingered for a moment on the weapon at her side. “And you think your troubles may have followed you?”

“It would not surprise me.”

“Is your trouble the human kind?”

“Amaranthine.” She grimaced. “Dragon clan.”

The boy didn’t even bat an eye. “What are your defenses?”

Anna firmed her posture. “Myself.”

Quen shook his head, looking disappointed in her. “That is not enough.”

“I am very good with a sword.”

“Not enough,” he repeated. “You need strong allies. And probably a mediator.”

“I have one. He promised to meet me here.”

The boy asked, “Why rely on one ally when you could have many? My clan has always kept close ties with humans.”

Anna softly challenged, “And you speak for your clan?”

“No. But I know Da. If he was here, he would offer, too.”

“Very generous, I am sure. But I am already causing trouble for Reaver Miyabe and his family.”

“If you will put away your sword, I will introduce you to my uncle. He is visiting an old friend, just there.” Quen pointed into the neighborhood below. “Did you know there is a wolf at your very doorstep?”

She hadn’t.

“He is another good ally to have. Close enough to call upon.” Again, Quen urged, “Put away your sword.”

“I am a battler,” she protested.

Quen patiently said, “You are not at war with the people of Kikusawa, and your blade will do little good against a dragon.”

“I am aware.”

“Come with me. I will treat you at that sweet shop down there. It is run by a tanuki clan. Have you ever tasted mochi?”

With a small shake of her head, Anna unbuckled her sword, set it aside, and trailed after the generous boy and his dog. Maybe it was wise to find more allies before Opal arrived. And … Anna liked sweets.

House of Noble Flowers

Anna peered around, unsure if the low ceiling and dim interior was typical of all shops in this country. Given the looming threat of possible pursuit, she hadn’t explored the neighborhood below the shrine. From its exterior, Anna never would have guessed this was a sweets shop. Nothing resembled the types she knew.

“Back already, young sir?” inquired the man behind the counter. He certainly looked like a local to Anna, but he spoke in accented English. A welcome surprise that suggested he was more than he seemed.

Quen executed a respectful bow. “We would like to share a pot of tea. And some of that mochi you gave me last time.”

“Liked it, did you?” The man began stacking pillowy white rounds into a shallow box. “I’ll add some daifuku. You’re sure to like it. And your friend?”

She stepped forward and presented her hands. “Anna Green, recently arrived.”

“So I’m told. Matsu is an old friend.” He dusted his hands and met her palms before inquiring, “Where are you from, Reaver Green?”

“It does not matter. I will not be going back.”

He accepted that with a nod and set about filling a teapot.

Quen asked, “Do you mind if I use your garden, again? So Rise can join us?”

“Make yourself at home.” And to Anna, he added, “The Wendwood clan bids you welcome. May you find peace among the Amaranthine of Keishi.”

With the soft jingle of chimes, another customer entered the shop, and Quen took Anna by the wrist, easily balancing a tray while leading her through an open screen and into a garden that sprawled right up to the forest’s edge. The Wendwood clan were a short tumble down a long slope from Matsu’s.

Arraying the contents of the tray onto a table situated under a tree with fat red buds, Quen whistled softly, and Rise pushed through the undergrowth. He trundled over, tail wagging. At first. Something must have caught his attention, because he went still, staring fixedly at a point before giving a low wuff.

Anna tensed, already wishing her blade was back in her hand.

“It is all right,” Quen murmured. And a little louder, “I am sorry if we are intruding.”

With a scattering of petals, an illusion dissipated, revealing a lady in a kimono. Mischievous smile. Merry eyes. “I am found out.”

“Should we go?” asked the earnest young dog.

“Take your ease,” she replied waving toward a bench. “I was hoping for a different visitor, but the wolf next door snatched him up and spoiled my fun.”

Belatedly, Anna realized that the lady also spoke in English. “May I know your name?”

“I’m Chika Wendwood, tanuki clan. Shall we be friends, Anna Green?”

No Wish to Unsettle

“Up my sleeve?” Junpei’s questing fingers found the sweet he’d received. Bringing out the block, he displayed it on the palm of his hand. “This?”

Hoshina-dono murmured something, then fumbled for words. “May I touch? Just a little?”

Junpei offered the thing.

To his surprise, the big man brought his hand under Junpei’s, copper eyes nearly crossing as he focused. Although he sniffed and muttered, nothing made sense. But then Hisoka Araki placed a hand on Hoshina-dono’s shoulder and pointedly met Junpei’s gaze.

That hand was clawed. And the man’s eyes were orange.

“Allow me to translate? Or better yet, to explain what’s happened.”

“Thank you, sir?”

“Sensei,” he reminded. “It’s more comfortable.”

“Araki-sensei.” And because there was no way such a prestigious person should be expected to know, he humbly added, “I’m Junpei.”

“I remember.” His expression could only be called kind. “As Churlish so aptly put it, we are another kind of people. A peaceful people. Friends, if you’re willing.”

“But you’re … one of Keishi’s elders …?”

“A position I’m honored to hold.” Hisoka exuded calm. “One that allows me to do some good for both our peoples.”

“And mine,” interrupted Churlish, who sashayed up with another tray. “I matter, too.”

Junpei could see how Churlish stood out, even amidst this strange company. A shining beauty. And yet, his manner hadn’t changed one bit.

“Aren’t you going to eat?” Churlish pushed a plate closer to Laud, who was hiding his hands behind his back, and set another dish in front of Hoshina-dono, who still knelt beside the table. “Junpei, tell them to try my cakes. They are good, are they not?”

“Very good. The best. More people should know how good your baking is.”

“They would if they could,” Churlish boasted. “But most people do not notice our shop.”

“How could they miss it?”

With a superior smile, he asked, “Before now, did you notice Paltry’s tail?”

“N-no.”

“Like that,” said Churlish. As if the matter was both explained and settled.

Hisoka spoke up. “I am curious how you found your way here.”

“The first time?” Junpei looked to Paltry. “Something smelled good, and I was hungry. And I had a little extra coin …?”

“He’s unregistered, of course,” Paltry said. “Gets it from his mother’s side, I’d wager. Since his younger half-brother’s got a glimmer.”

Junpei hadn’t realized Paltry knew about his family. Then again, people did talk. But shine?

Matsu spoke up again. “Agreed. Sho has potential. Kusunoki took an immediate liking to him.”

Junpei had no idea what that meant, and turning from them, he met Laud’s gaze again. The big, white-haired fellow still sat quietly, hands tucked. Clearing his throat, Junpei nudged the plate of cakes closer to him. “It’s okay. I already saw your claws.”

Laud’s head tipped to the side.

Junpei felt so helpless, being unable to make himself understood. “Sensei? Tell him it’s okay?”

Hisoka Araki smoothly stepped in, bridging the gap.

With a cautious nod, Laud slid his hands across the table, palm up.

“A customary greeting,” said Hisoka. “If you have the courage to meet his palms, it will surely put Laud more at ease. He has no wish to unsettle you.”

Junpei carefully reclaimed his hand from Hoshina-dono.

The big man smiled crookedly. “It’s all right, lad. Make peace with my brother. But save some peace for me,” he said in amiable tones.  

Hisoka translated.

Setting aside the sweet that seemed to be at the heart of this kerfuffle, Junpei surrendered his hands. “Good to meet you. Again …? I guess.”

It wasn’t much, but he guessed Hisoka could smooth things over.

“My name is Laud.” He spoke with painstaking care. It was probably one of the only phrases he’d learned so far.

With an encouraging nod, Junpei slowly returned the greeting. “My name is Junpei.”

The big guy ducked his head and retreated to his side of the table before slowly reaching for food.

“I’ll bring more,” Churlish promised, practically skipping back to the kitchen.  

Hoshina-dono presented his own hands, saying something to Hisoka.

Sensei chuckled. “Harmonious wants to make sure you understand. He would gladly offer you a place in his pack, but he cannot trespass upon a prior claim.”

“Claim?” Junpei asked as he met palms with the silk merchant whose name had changed.

“Someone has favored you with a gift. And pranks are a sign of preference among members of the tanuki clan.” With the barest of smiles, Hisoka added, “You have an admirer.”

Recalling the blue-eyed lady in the plum blossom kimono, Junpei stammered and blushed.

This set off a fresh conference between Hisoka and Harmonious.

Meanwhile, Churlish returned with a heaped tray, and Junpei showed him the block. “Is there something strange about this?”

“I know what this is!” he exclaimed. “This is chocolate!”

“Is that good?”

“So good! I have not had any in so long. They do not have any here. Officially.”

“Where does it come from?”

“Far away. Across the sea. We used to go everywhere, but we made a friend and decided to stay. Even though there is no lake.”

Junpei wasn’t sure these details were any help to his current confusion. “Do you want it? Or you, Hoshina-dono?”

“No, no!” quickly answered the silk merchant. “Keep it, lad. Someone made a present of it, and I wouldn’t want to meddle. There are too many meddlers in the world.”

Again, Hisoka translated.

Churlish gave the sweet a longing look, but agreed, “It is yours.”

Hoshina-dono, who seemed to answer to Harmonious while among others of his kind, carefully closed Junpei’s fingers over the gift. With a soft light in his eyes, he murmured something, giving his hands a pat.

Once more, Hisoka translated. “Good for you.”

You Will Be Fine

“Are you sad?” asked Churlish. “Or upset? Or dissatisfied? I get dissatisfied, so I know how dreadful that can be.”

Junpei hummed vaguely. The others—even Laud—had moved to a table across the room, where Opal the Sage held court, his voice rising and falling in some dramatic tale. Or so it seemed. Maybe later, he’d ask Matsu what language they’d all been speaking.

Not that knowing a word for their words would unlock them. He murmured, “I can read and write, you know.”

“And that makes you sad?”

Usually, it was a thing he was proud of. In his early days at the atelier, there’d been lessons with Yami-san in the back room—brush strokes and books, syllabaries and signatures. Yami-san really had been patient. And probably too generous, given how much Sho’s tutelage cost.

“What I mean is that … I didn’t realize how much I don’t know.”

Churlish patted his shoulder. “Not everyone can know everything.”

“But you do?”

“I know everything that is important for me to know.” He hesitated. “Except one thing. And it does make me sad. But I know something that is good for sad days. Wait.”

He was gone in a twirl and returned in a twinkling.

“This.” He pressed a warm clay cup into Junpei’s palm. “I make good custard. I am good at custard. I am also good to my wolf, and I am good to my friends. Taste.”

Junpei accepted the small silver spoon Churlish wiggled under his nose.

Propping his hip against the table, he looked ready to oversee every last bite, though his attention strayed to the conversation in the opposite corner.

“Am I in trouble?” whispered Junpei.

“Do you like tails?”

“I … I do not dislike tails …?”

“Then you will be fine. I was fine.” Nodding toward the cabal, he said, “Talking is good. Sharing ideas and sharing puddings is good. That is peace.”

So simple. Maybe too simplistic. But Churlish’s confidence was reassuring.

“I’m glad you’re here.”

Twisting a strand of blue beads at his wrist, he murmured, “So am I.”

“I heard that!” called Paltry, all smiles.

“I meant maybe,” grumbled his partner, who whisked off to the kitchen. “Only maybe.”

Separating from the others, Paltry switched to Japanese. “Harmonious says you’ve been working at his estate?”

“I do odd jobs.”

“Like …?”

Junpei wasn’t sure what his friend was after. “Normal stuff. Cleaning and carrying. I lent the gardener a hand this morning.”

Paltry waggled a finger at him, then lifted down one of the many paper lanterns that decorated the tearoom. “What do you think of this, Harmonious? You, too, Hisoka. Wouldn’t you say this is beyond lovely?”

To Junpei’s embarrassment, the pair not only studied his handiwork, they rose from the table in order to inspect the other lanterns in the room. All his. He always saved his best pieces for Paltry.

“Yours?” inquired Hisoka.

“Yes.”

Paltry jostled Harmonious with an elbow. “Why is my friend grubbing in your garden when he could be ornamenting your screens?”

“We could commission you?” asked Hisoka.

Junpei floundered for an appropriate answer. “Most go to the Eitoku atelier for such things.”

“Are you refusing?” Hisoka quietly advised, “Don’t.”

Harmonious seemed taken with the idea. “I am familiar with chrysanthemums, and here are cherry blossoms, of course. Ah, these are orchids, yes? But what about these small, red ones. Are they native to the area?”

Hisoka patiently translated.

Junpei ventured, “Red flowers have always been associated with Kikusawa.”

“Why?” asked Harmonious, clearly interested.

There was a reason. Something to do with the shrine. He looked to Matsu for help in answering.

“You should visit our gardens,” the shrinekeeper smoothly suggested. “Come summertime, they will be filled with chrysanthemums. If you see them for yourself, you will understand.”

He spoke in Japanese, probably to include Junpei.

While Hisoka translated for the sake of Harmonious and Laud, Opal eased to Junpei’s side. “Do me a favor.”

Of course he would. “Anything.”

“Keep the truth of our existence a secret.”

As if he’d ever breathe a word. “I will. I promise.”

“Also, we need a few hours privacy. Perhaps more. You should spend the rest of the afternoon in a place you enjoy. Somewhere safe. Somewhere that makes you happy.”

What a magnificent idea! Junpei murmured his thanks and moved to leave.

Churlish caught his wrist. “But you can return. Whenever you want.”

“Yes, yes,” soothed Opal. “I would never banish you from the company of friends.”

Junpei was glad. Paltry made him feel safe, and Churlish’s sass made him smile. “I will gladly visit again.”

Just then, the door slid open, and there was Hoshina-dono’s young son. “Hello, Ken-kun. Did you know you look very like your father?”

“Junpei-san?”

And seeing the tall lady behind Ken, he added, “Hello, Anna-san. I have to go. I must do Opal a favor. There’s somewhere I must go. I’m always happy there.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Opal?” she called in warning tones.

“A harmless necessity!” retorted the sage.

Anna scowled, but her tone gentled. “I understand why you must go, Junpei-san. Perhaps we will meet again.” Her glare cut across the room. “Will you be able to return?”

“A few hours. Another day,” said Junpei. “If I can find the coin.”

Paltry eased over and gripped his shoulder.

“I must go,” said Junpei. The need to do so was gaining in urgency.

“I know, friend.” Paltry pressed a coin into his hand. “Churlish will save you one of his custards.”

Junpei didn’t like to take coin that he hadn’t earned, but somewhere deep down, he also didn’t want to leave. This was the place where he felt safest and happiest. But there was another place he sometimes went. “I must go to Naoki.”

Paltry’s tail wagged. “You have a knack for finding good company.”

Still, Junpei lingered, clutching that coin.

Bending to meet his gaze, Paltry said, “Come by later. Use the back door. Churlish can feed you, and we can talk more. If you can.”

Junpei managed a nod before need forced him away. Hurrying along the street, he wondered how one slim coin could make him feel so much richer.

Questionable Taste in Ballads

Anna quickly assessed the tearoom and its occupants. To her surprise, the place was furnished with sturdy benches and proper tables with wide chairs. High ceilings encouraged her to stand straight, and for the first time in many days, she didn’t tower over everyone in the vicinity.

Once more taking her by the wrist, Quen said, “It will be fine. They are all Da’s friends.”

She had no trouble deciding which of the males was Quen’s father, but she’d no sooner singled him out when he dropped into a crouch. Then sat on the floor.

Tugging her in another direction, Quen introduced her to a wolf named Paltry, who called for his partner. They made a strange duo—a kimono-clad man with baubles in his hair and a sulky boy with bobbed black hair. But they welcomed her without hesitation and offered their aid even before knowing why she needed it.

Necessary niceties were exchanged, and they presented her to a feline who wished to be called Sensei. As it happened, he was a teacher at Ingress Academy, so he quizzed her in some detail about her own schooling.

Anna had intended to be discreet, but the cat pried little tidbits of information into the open. Before she knew it, she’d admitted to her age, her familial branch, her ranking in the last battler tournament, and the aptitude that had landed her a place in Opulence Windlore’s service.

“Singing lessons!” boasted Opal. “They are universally effective. The more abysmal the student, the stronger the urge to resist the vocal rigors I inflict.”

“How very … you,” said Matsu, showing dimples.

“And it works?” asked Quen, entirely fascinated.

“Like a charm,” said Paltry, not even trying to keep a straight face.

Churlish thrust out his lower lip. “I do not remember singing lessons.”

“Ah, but would you?” inquired the dragon.

The boy turned to Paltry, aghast. “Did he make me sing?”

“If memory serves, it was more of a duet. But I’d had a lot of star wine ….”

All throughout the lively discussion, Anna’s attention kept straying to Quen’s father, whose fidgets reminded her of a restless child. He rolled to his knees. He sat back on his heels, He sat with legs crossed, hands gripping his ankles. And every time her gaze flicked his way, he was looking at her with a hopeful expression.

“So you gave Anna singing lessons to inure her to dragon sway?” surmised Quen.

“My sympathies,” murmured Paltry.

Matsu nodded. “His taste in ballads is often … questionable.”

Anna really wished Opal didn’t enjoy telling this story so much.

“I’m not sure I understand the problem,” said Hisoka.

The dragon spread his hands wide. “She failed.”

Quen’s glance was sympathetic. “You can’t sing?”

“Not. Quite,” Anna gritted out.

“Oho! She took to singing like a lark. Anna’s voice is a treasure!” Opal coyly confided, “She enjoyed her lessons so much, she never learned to resist me. So when I offered her a part in my cortege …!”

Anna blushed. “I am a battler, not a bard.”

“And I maintain that both makes you doubly formidable.” Opal sighed happily. “Our duets reach into the heavens, coaxing descants from the very stars.”

Quen’s eyes were wide. “You’ve sung with dragons?”

“Just the one.”

“And was it wonderful?”

Anna hadn’t sought Opal’s patronage, but neither had she tried to escape it. His raptures were not her style, but she couldn’t deny a certain fondness for her mentor. “As wonderful as you would expect. Until it was terrible.”

“Ah. Yes.” The dragon winced. “Things took a bad turn. But here we are! Safe.”

“For the moment,” she allowed.

Quen craned his neck. “Da? Don’t you want to meet Anna?”

“I would,” he said, casting a pleading look in Hisoka-sensei’s direction.

The cat courteously mediated. “Harmonious Starmark recently joined our community, bringing his entire den from overseas. His progeny are here in force—Kith and Kindred.” Hisoka’s expression gentled, and he touched her arm before quietly adding, “My good friend came to escape the machinations of Wardenclave’s matchmakers. For many decades now, he has been bereft of a bondmate. You would call him a widower.”

Most Amaranthine introductions came with personal information attached. So she accepted this detail with a nod and crisply declared, “Anna Green.”

“Anna,” he murmured.

By rights, he should have declared what name she should use for him. “Why are you on your knees, Harmonious Starmark?”

“I have no wish to overwhelm you by … looming?”

Ridiculous. “Are you questioning my courage?”

Quen said, “She is a battler, Da! And see? Paltry is just as tall.”

“So he is,” Harmonious said awkwardly. And still, he made no effort to stand.

Pulling Quen against her side and thumping his shoulder, Anna took charge. “Your son suggested I make allies in Keishi.”

“I am willing.” Eyes widening, Harmonious looked like a dog begging for scraps. “Choose me.”

“Choose us,” corrected Quen. “Our den is strong.”

Anna challenged, “Strong enough to stand?”

Never breaking eye contact, Harmonious rose to his full height, which was impressive.

“I will grant you are tall.” Squaring her shoulders, she staunchly added, “But I am no waif.”

His gaze went from her face to that of his son, who still leaned into her side. “She is strong, this lady,” he said seriously.

Quen grinned. “Rise likes her, too.”

His father’s lips quirked into a pleased smile.

Anna wanted to move on, and if taking charge accomplished that, she’d do it. “Is English fine? There is much I need to know, and there is much you all must learn.”

But Harmonious eased closer and asked, “May I touch?”

So he wouldn’t curtail the courtesies? Anna offered her palms in a perfunctory manner.

Without haste, he covered them with his own before sliding his hands beneath in a silent pledge of support. It was subtle, the shift. Somehow, he managed to cradle her hands between his, and he took long, slow breaths. He was searching her scent as intently as he was searching her face. What did he hope to find?  

When she pulled back, he let her go with a tentative smile. 

So restrained. So respectful. So different from the dragons who’d tried to force a claim.

I See Her Everywhere

Junpei knew he needed to get to Naoki’s place, but his steps slowed when he caught a glimpse of plum blossoms beneath the pleats of a parasol. He was almost positive he saw her again—on a bridge, in a garden, upon a bench. But each time, urgency pressed him onward, right into the part of town that catered to people who had money for more than basics.

Finer things.

Little luxuries.

The first time Junpei visited Naoki’s book stall, his attention was immediately caught by a display of floral prints. He’d ducked inside for a closer look, since the flowering trees weren’t like any he’d ever seen. Noticing his fascination, Naoki had brought over a book with botanical illustrations.

“I can’t afford this,” Junpei confessed. Surely the man could see how shabby he was.

But Naoki had guided him to a small table, invited him to sit, and said, “Look your fill.”

So Junpei had. And still did. Because Naoki was the sort of shopkeeper who didn’t mind if a careful man with clean hands paged through his wares. In fact, they’d struck up a polite sort of friendship. Junpei had been invited to call Naoki by his given name, and the man had begun searching for and setting aside things he knew Junpei would appreciate.

Foreign books with fancy art plates.

Scrolls with illustrated poetry.

Novels with lavishly painted flyleaves.

Pausing on the threshold, Junpei looked back the way he’d come.

“What has you craning about? Did you lose Sho?” Naoki came to stand with him. He was the sort of man who seemed interested in everything. Small in stature, he wore round spectacles that hooked behind his ears, and there were unusual bracelets on both his wrists, like prayer beads cut from translucent stone. Junpei was used to the soft clatter they made whenever Naoki spoke, for while his smiles were the quiet sort, his hands had a lot to say.

“Not Sho. But there was a lady. Did you see where she went?”

“What sort of lady are you looking for?”

“There is this lady with a plain parasol. I’ve been seeing her everywhere.”

Junpei shook his head and went inside, breathing a sigh of relief now that he’d done as Opal said. He loved the smell of this shop. All his favorite things had been steeped into the very air—paper, ink, and flowers.

Naoki’s shop was long and narrow, fit between a candlemaker’s stall and a place that displayed hairpins and combs. Junpei usually moved straight to his spot at the table in the back, but today he pondered Naoki’s seat behind the low counter where he made sales.

Two chairs filled the space, along with a slender cushioned bench for propping one’s feet. Junpei had never seen someone use the chair on the left, though two lap blankets draped there, and the foot cushion showed signs of equal wear on both sides.

Between customers, Naoki sat here, reading.

Had there always been two chairs? Junpei couldn’t recall.

The faint rustle of cloth and a tiny ting made him turn his head. Junpei quickly lowered his gaze, since he didn’t like to interrupt when Naoki was with his real customers. A single red flower petal drifted to the floor, drawing Junpei’s eyes to the man’s geta. They were angled away, so he risked a peek … and blinked.

Naoki pushed past Junpei, reaching for a book under the counter. “I found something unusual. You’ll love this one.”

Junpei cautiously said, “I do like new things.”

Something must have shown on his face, because Naoki asked, “Are you well? How is your family?”

“Well enough,” he answered, though he shook his head.

Frowning now, Naoki asked, “What brings you here today?”

“This place makes me feel happy. And … you make me feel safe.” He lowered his gaze again. “I do like it here. Even if things have to change.”

Coming out from behind the counter, Naoki murmured, “Pardon me.” He touched Junpei’s cheek and searched his eyes. “You are not quite yourself, today.”

“I think so, too.” Junpei risked a peek to one side, where two more petals had joined the first on the floor. “Let me stay? I need to stay in a safe and happy place for a few hours.”

“Why?”

Junpei struggled for words. “It’s what he said.”

Naoki’s expression changed, becoming fierce … maybe even angry. But his tone was calm when he asked, “Who told you to go to a safe and happy place?”

“I’m not sure I should say.” Junpei swallowed hard. “I’m … not sure I can.”

“Relax,” urged Naoki. “There are truths along the edges of disobedience, and they can’t hurt you. Let’s start over. Did you meet someone new today?”

“Yes.”

“Were you afraid today?”

“A little. At first …?”

“Did they send you to me?”

“No. Yes. No.” Junpei hunched his shoulders. “Not exactly. I chose you.”

Naoki nodded. “Thank you for that. You are safe. I can promise this. Understand?”

“Less than I’d like. Today’s been … unusual.”

After a few moments’ consideration, Naoki asked, “If I make you feel safe and happy, would it be okay if we went somewhere together?”

He pondered that, then nodded. “I can do that.”

Pitching his voice differently, Naoki announced, “We’re going to Kikusawa Shrine.”

Junpei nodded again, but there was a clack of wooden sandals and a fragrant breeze as the other man preceded them outside. It seemed the three of them were going together.

Safe and Happy Place

As they walked, Naoki occasionally plied Junpei with more questions. “Why do you need a safe and happy place, I wonder. Is safety a concern?”

Junpei searched to find words along the edges of the whole truth. Now that he knew where to look, they came more easily. “To put me at ease. I think it was meant as a kindness.”

Naoki hummed. “What sort of person was kind to you?”

“A sage.”

“From what faith?”

Junpei smiled uneasily. “I don’t think he was that kind of sage.”

They climbed the long stairs to the shrine. Matsu was nowhere to be found, which made sense, since he was probably still at the tearoom. Even with its keeper gone, Kikusawa was a good, safe place. But Junpei wouldn’t have called his current state of mind happy.

Sho was here, playing with the orphans instead of his classmates.

“Again?” sighed Junpei.

“Surely, the shrine isn’t out of bounds for the boy,” said Naoki. 

Junpei was uncomfortable with the truth. “Mother wants him to get along with boys from the kinds of families who could help him along. He could, too. Everyone likes Sho.”

“But Sho doesn’t like everyone?”

“That’s not entirely true. But … he has his favorites.”

Naoki chuckled. “Don’t most people?”

Junpei knew it was only the truth, so he wouldn’t chase down his brother or deliver a scolding. Instead, he ventured, “May I ask an awkward question?”

His companion’s expression brightened. “That might be interesting.”

“Why are red flowers associated with Kikusawa Shrine?”

With a subtle shift of posture, Naoki said, “Most people would say it’s the chrysanthemums.”

“Is that what you think?”

The man looked away, looked back, and smiled faintly. “No.”

Junpei drew a deep breath and got to the awkward part. “Does it have anything to do with the man I saw here recently? He had red flowers in his hair.”

“Hmm?” Naoki traded a look with the person who’d accompanied them. “That’s singular. Why don’t you ask Matsu?”

“I did. He was surprised.” Junpei tried to remember details about that conversation, but his recollection had gone all fuzzy at the edges.

While he fumbled for another question, the man in geta touched Naoki’s shoulder and quietly said, “There is a boy who has never been here before. Kusunoki is concerned.”

“That was it!” Junpei exclaimed, grateful to have his memory jogged. “Matsu’s childhood friend. His name is Kusunoki.”

 Ignoring him, the man in geta quietly said, “When it is convenient, could we speak? I believe Kusunoki has good reason to be worried.”

It dawned on Junpei, then. Neither Naoki nor his companion realized that Junpei could see him. Another upshot of the prank, no doubt. Raising a hand in apology, Junpei said, “If it’s something urgent, it’s all right.”

They blinked at him.

Naoki asked, “Since when do you notice things that are supposed to be secret?”

“Since today …? Today has been … unusual.”

“Tell me what you see,” Naoki prompted, his expression guarded.

Meeting a red-eyed gaze, Junpei offered a respectful nod. “I see another man with long, black hair and a lavish crown of red flowers. You are similar to Kusunoki, but Matsu’s friend has more height and girth and wears hakama.”

With a heavy sigh, Naoki said, “Junpei, meet my longtime companion, Hajime.”

Junpei presented his hands, and Hajime asked, “Are you a reaver, then?”

“A what?”

“No, I think not,” said Naoki. “But what’s this about a boy?”

Hajime pointed. “Kusunoki is restless, but he does not know why. He does not remember … before.”

Naoki stiffened and muttered, “Are we found?”

“I cannot deny that possibility.”

Junpei glanced between them and the boy, who happened to be standing with Sho. They were of similar height, so they were probably similar in age. From this distance, Junpei couldn’t see anything amiss. But Naoki and Hajime wore matching expressions of … fear.

“What is it?” Junpei asked, already striding toward his brother. “I’m getting Sho.”

Hajime was suddenly in front of him, arms spread wide. “Wait,” he begged. “It is not safe.”

All the more reason to reach Sho. “I’m getting my little brother.”

“Brother …?” Hajime echoed weakly. And he winked out, appearing beside the two boys.

The stranger ran, and Sho called after him, hand outstretched.

Junpei arrived a moment later, pulling Sho close.

His brother thanked him with an elbow to the ribs. “What gives? Let go, Jun-nii!”

“Is everyone all right?” asked Naoki, who next reached them.

“Fine,” breathed Junpei.

Sho wrangled free and straightened his clothes, still looking in the direction the other boy had fled. Junpei gripped his shoulder, though, unsettled by the sudden turn of events. His brother glared up at him, then froze, his gaze drifting to Hajime.

In his usual, undaunted way, Sho asked, “Should I be worried about the red eyes?”

“Whose?” asked Hajime, indicating himself. “Mine?”

“Nope,” said Sho, pointing off. “His. The boy with purple hair.”

Entering the Back Way

Junpei escorted Sho home, stayed long enough to satisfy Mother, and excused himself. For a walk, he’d said. Twilight was descending, and those few hours had finally ticked down somewhere in the back of his mind. Now that he was in the clear, Paltry’s invitation was all Junpei could think about.

The noren was down at Moonglade Tearoom, but Paltry had said something about a back door. An unobtrusive side alley led away from the familiar and into shadow. Was it a garden wall? He shuffled cautiously along until he reached a turning that should put him behind the shop.

To his relief, a soft light beckoned him onward. He thought at first that Paltry must have left a light for him atop the stout gatepost, but the glow wasn’t coming from a paper lantern. Churlish sat there, silvery as moonlight, hugging his knees as he gazed into the sky.

“Good evening,” Junpei quietly called.

“You came! I knew you would.” Churlish held out his hands to be lifted down. “Come and meet the dexes. They want a better introduction than they could make with Opal meddling.”

“He’s not here?”

“Are you glad?”

Junpei admitted, “A little.”

Churlish solemnly said, “Me, too. Dragons are tricky.”

Junpei frowned. “Opal is a dragon?”

“And a bard. If he likes you, he might put you in a song.”

“Are you in a song?”

“Maybe.” His face brightened, and he mumbled, “There must be something else you want to know. Ask that, instead.”

“Alright. What are dexes?”

“Just another secret.” Silver eyes turned searching. “Are you afraid of secrets?”

“Should I be?”

“Not ours.” Churlish exuded confidence. “We are the good kind.”

“I don’t think I’m afraid. Would I be here if I was?”

“I knew you would be fine.” Waving for him to follow, Churlish assured, “I know everything.”

As it happened, Junpei already knew these dexes. Paltry, Laud, and Quen were waiting, as was an impossibly large dog with silky red fur. Staying behind Churlish, Junpei stammered, “Th-this is a dex?”

Quen hurried forward. “Rise is a Kith. I am a dex. Or the doggish equivalent.”

“Churlish, what have you been telling him?” chided Paltry.

“Only the truth. He wanted to know.”

“We should tell it in order,” Paltry grumbled, stalking in his partner’s wake toward the kitchen. Over his shoulder, he called, “You first, Quen. Ease him into the place he belongs.”

Junpei offered the boy a small smile. “Your name isn’t Ken Hoshina. Not really.”

Standing straight and offering both hands, he spoke in words Junpei could understand. He must have been practicing. “I am Eloquence Starmark. My friends call me Quen. I would be pleased if there can be peace between us.”

And then Laud was there, palms extended. And Junpei met the dog as well. And Paltry was back, hustling everyone into the tearoom, where Churlish had crammed one of the small tables with bowls, baskets, and crockery. While they ate, they sat so close, Junpei’s shoulders would bump Paltry’s or Laud’s. By the fourth time, he stopped apologizing for it.

Churlish advocated the liberal use of butter and kept passing slathered wedges of bread.

Quen ate with surprising appetite for such a skinny kid, as if he were trying to keep up with—or catch up to—the rest of them.

For the most part, Junpei simply listened, because Paltry had a lot to say—about clans, about cooperation, about starry souls, and about a secret society to which Junpei could belong.

“When an unregistered reaver is found, if the circumstances are right, they can be brought in. That’s what we’re doing now. Inducting you into the In-between.”

“Why me?” asked Junpei.

“Bloodline is part of it. Always is,” he answered vaguely.

“You’ve known me since I was … fourteen? Why now?” pressed Junpei.

“In a way, we’re bringing you in because we consider you a friend. And in a related way, we want you closer for your protection. But ….”

When Paltry trailed off, Laud pointed Junpei’s way. Or more specifically, at his sleeve, where the block of sweet had remained. He spoke, but his words were lost on Junpei.

“Yeah, I know.” Paltry shrugged broad shoulders. “That little trick forced the issue. We had no choice.”

Retrieving the chocolate and holding it up, Junpei asked, “This?”

“That,” Paltry acknowledged. “Which brings us to the next topic of discussion.”

Junpei wasn’t sure why his friend looked so amused, why Laud seemed to be blushing. Quen asked something in swift, eager tones, and Churlish stuck his nose in the air, saying, “I will tell if you will not.”

“No, no. I’ll do it,” Paltry said. And to Junpei. “It’s nothing bad. In fact, many a male would be flattered by such a token.”

“Which means …?”

With a gentle expression, Paltry explained, “We may have called her sigil a prank, but Harmonious was right about the claim. It’s safe to say she has … intentions. Perhaps a better word would be … well….”

Churlish cut in and cut to the chase. “Courtship.”   

Love at First Sight

Although it was late when Junpei finally returned home, he left his futon in its cupboard, moving instead to light enough lamps to paint by. He arranged his supplies, but in the process of tying back his sleeves, he re-encountered the swinging weight of the blue-eyed lady’s gift.

He brought it out and set it on the table.

Sitting before it, Junpei ran his fingers over the paper, which was thick and white and sparsely flecked with blue. He’d never seen the like. Inside was a fresh mystery, for a second layer of paper was waxy to the touch and cleverly folded. Easing this back, he uncovered a sweet that was dark and waxy. He sniffed but couldn’t place the scent. The spot where his thumb made contact turned slippery, for the stuff had melted at his touch.

Junpei licked it. Different.

Not in a bad way. Just … new.

Nothing to be afraid of.

He nipped the corner off, rewrapped the block in the inner paper, and licked his fingers clean before turning his attention to the thick paper of the outer layer. Its weight fascinated him, and he found a small mark on one corner, the impression of a moth. Junpei could only assume it was a kind of maker’s mark, for such fine paper must have a craftsman.

Junpei flattened and pressed it, and when inspiration struck, he reached for his collection of brushes, finding the two tiniest. Pulling the box where he kept his paints closer, he hesitated over what palette to prepare.

Plum blossoms, surely. Like the pattern on his lady’s kimono.

Wouldn’t that be the most appropriate answer?

For he owed one. The dexes had explained that it was both custom and courtesy.

Paltry had assured him that it was safe to refuse. A simple rebuff would stop everything. But before his friend had finished with explanations, Junpei had already decided that his answer would be a favorable one.

Water and a wash of palest blue.

Junpei watched in fascination as the paint traveled and bloomed. This paper was a wonder, finer than any scrap he’d ever foraged from the atelier. So he proceeded patiently, almost teasing himself. He could see how it should look, but he wouldn’t rush. This was a message without words, and he wanted it to be perfect.

He would give her this answer, and the flowers would speak for him.

They would let her know that he thought the chocolate was good … and that she wore springtime beautifully … and that he had probably been hers since the first time their eyes met.

Address Her with Respect

Paltry and Matsu escorted Anna to the home of Harmonious Starmark, who’d offered to play host to a conference of local Amaranthine. The compound was some distance from the city center, but the choice made sense to Anna. Privacy was paramount, which made the lack of barriers and wards confusing.

Introductions took the entire morning, for Harmonious seemed to think it important that Anna meet every member of his household. From his youngest—Quen and Rise—right on up through his other nine sons and daughters, many of whom had bondmates and children of their own.

“Reaver Anna Green,” he said, again and again.

“Just Anna,” she finally grumbled.

Harmonious hesitated. “In this country, given names are only used by one’s intimate friends.”

“In this country, my given name is pronounceable.” The children of Kikusawa shrine had struggled with her surname, trying to fit the letters into their own syllabary. “Anna is simpler.”

“Hisoka,” he called. “Will Reaver Green be needing a local name? Like Hoshina?”

The feline mildly inquired, “You’re offering to share your name?” 

“What? Oh! I only meant …!” And raising both hands, Harmonious dithered through explanations and apologies.

As if she might’ve misunderstood. Which she hadn’t.

Harmonious finally trailed off with a rueful glance and a soft, “Not that I’d mind.”

Now, that … that was harder to understand.

“Midori,” Hisoka suggested. “It’s the local word for the color green. Let those who wish to show respect call you Midori-san.”

And so Harmonious changed his tune. “Midori Anna,” he said, again and again. Making sure the young ones knew how to address her respectfully.

Anna was having difficulty reconciling his grandfatherly status with all his hopeful enthusiasm. He was like a boy, showing off his best treasures, eager for her to be amazed.

His daughter Rampant remarked, “You have him charmed.”

Looking down at little Sonnet, who snuggled against her shoulder, happily crooning, Anna said, “Your son is beautiful.”

Copper eyes held the sparkle of amusement. “Oh, him, too.”

Anna wasn’t sure how to take that.

Caressing her little one’s silky hair, Rampant murmured, “I think Da is trying to impress you.”

“I hardly think so.” She glanced over to where Harmonious stood with his eldest son, Merit, and the Elderbough tracker who’d cheerfully butted in, suggesting she also call his best friend Penny.

Harmonious turned her way and just sort of … stalled. Why was he staring?

Anna scanned the room, hoping for context, only to realize that most members of the Starmark clan were on the alert, and they were watching Harmonious watch her.

Rampant eased into her father’s line of sight, hiding Anna from view. She arched her brows and asked, “Are you being pursued?”

“Probably.” It was the whole reason for this meeting, if they ever got to it.

“Hmm? That’s not necessarily a bad thing.” Rampant held out her hands, and Sonnet went to her. “Give Da a reason, and he’ll outpace all comers.”

Anna wanted clarification, because it almost sounded as though Rampant thought her father was ….

“Midori-san,” interrupted Harmonious, who’d stolen up behind his daughter. “Hisoka thinks we should begin.”

“Begin what, exactly?” she asked testily.

“Uhh. Convening. In the next room.” He gestured with both hands. “Sentinel and Laud have warded it for privacy.”

“Oh.” And because the name was still strange to her ears, she said, “My name is Anna.”

“Yes, my dear. I know.”

“I told you to call me Anna.”

“If you’re sure …?”

“You will find me quite decisive.”

Eyes alight, he said, “Thank you.”

“And … how would you like to be called?” For though he’d guided her through numerous introductions, their own exchange of names had been rushed and scanty.

“By name. By any name. And often.”

His tone was easy, but the undercurrent remained. Something hopeful and wistful and willing.

She didn’t like it.

She wouldn’t address it.

“Thank you, Harmonious,” she said, keeping her tone and her posture entirely neutral.

His smile dimmed somewhat, but he remained courteous to a fault.

Always in the Audience

For reasons of his own, Opal stubbornly refused to explain matters, so Anna would have to speak for herself.

It was fine. The facts were simple.

She would not shrink from obligation.

Seated upon a floor cushion, with a tea tray before her and Quen at her side, she strove to keep her story brief.

“Two dragons approached me at a Song Circle. They were very … complimentary.” It had happened during one of the rare moments when Opal wasn’t at her side. They’d timed it just right. “This same pair was at the next Song Circle. And the next. Always in the audience.”

Opal grimly interjected, “Always with a kind word.”

She winced.

Quen whined softly.

“This past Dichotomy Day, one of them offered to make me his bride. I declined.” Anna fidgeted. “They grew increasingly persuasive.”

She had several gaps in her memory. Stolen moments.

Shame burned through her, for she’d been weak. Helpless to resist. Not their suggestions. Nor the liberties they took—body and soul.   

Tails puffed and began to switch, for a handful of wolves had been included in the conference. Adoonah-soh Elderbough and her bondmate Ninook. Merit’s best friend turned out to be one of their sons, a tracker who’d asked to be called Boon. Joonta and Karoo were from the Ambervelte pack, and there was Paltry, of course.

“Sway?” Harmonious looked stunned.

“I am susceptible.” Anna’s jaw tightened. “If not for Opal ….”

Her mentor’s expression was pensive. “Had the stars been aligned any differently, the fiends would have absconded with her. And may yet try, since they have followed Anna here.”

They had? This was the first she’d heard, and her stomach plunged.

“To what end?” asked Harmonious. “Their offer was declined. Their interest was rebuffed.”

Hisoka spoke kindly. “Not every soul is as guileless as yours, old friend.”

“Acquisition. Capture. Confinement,” Opal said bluntly. “They still want Anna. They mean to have her.”

“Unwilling?” Harmonious croaked.

His innocent befuddlement in that moment was almost endearing. He sought her gaze, and he seemed to be pleading with her. Begging her to deny it? She wished she could. But then Quen touched her elbow.

“Ask it,” he urged. “Now that we understand, ask.”

The first words out of Anna’s mouth weren’t a question. “I do not like their offer.”

“You would mince words now?” Opal drawled.

“I … I hate their offer. And them.”

Tails thumped the floor in silent approval. It gave Anna the courage to go on.

“I am not helpless, but … I need help.” Another statement.

Quen smiled up at her and whispered, “Ask it, Anna. How else can we answer?”

So she squared her shoulders and glared determinedly at Harmonious Starmark. “Do not let them take me. Please?”

Barely a question. Almost an order, given her tone. Yet he lunged across the room, toppling teacups in his haste.

Kneeling before her, he reached out, only to tuck his hands behind his back. “I will stand with you against them. You will be safe. I swear it.”

Anna blinked hard.

Harmonious sealed his pledge with a soft kiss to her forehead and whispered, “Will you trust me?”

She gave the only answer that was honest. “I will try.”

Takes After Her Mother

Junpei ducked under the fluttering noren outside the House of the Noble Chrysanthemum. He hadn’t been inside for years, but he’d been a regular once, because Mother had craved strawberry daifuku when she was pregnant with Sho.

The man behind the counter hadn’t changed much in the intervening years. “Hello, Uncle,” Junpei said cautiously.

“Giving up already?” Dark eyes twinkled. “Come now, Jun-kun. Give it a guess.”  

It was just like old times, this game. Brothers owned the shop, and Junpei had never been able to tell them apart.

“Uhh … Uncle Haruka?”

The man smiled impishly. “Not I!”

“Uncle Haruki,” Junpei sheepishly amended. “Do you know where I might find a lady in a plum blossom kimono? She has blue eyes.”

“Takes after her mother,” the man said mildly. “Did my girl cause you some mischief?”

“A little.” And belatedly, “She’s your daughter?”

“My youngest.”

Junpei wasn’t sure if there was some protocol he should follow. Shuffling forward, he offered his palms. “Is she here? May I speak with her?”

“I have no objections.”

Taking one of Junpei’s hands into his own, Haruki lightly traced a pattern on his palm. The lines shimmered slightly, and by the time he finished, Junpei was staring at the tip of a neat claw against his skin. When he dragged his gaze to Haruki’s, his eyes were a soft gold, though just as prone to twinkling.

“Do you have any objections?” asked the shopkeeper, who looked so much younger now.

Junpei simply shook his head.

Haruki pulled both of Junpei’s hands into his own, gently squeezed them, and leaned back to call through the door behind him. “Chika? Your young man is here!”

Then holding a finger to his lips, Haruki vanished.

Further proof that tanuki were fond of tricks.

Curtains fluttered, and his lady emerged, arrayed in a creamy kimono decorated by a thicket of windblown bamboo. It was exquisite. Recalling himself, Junpei fished in his sleeve and brought out his gift, presenting it with both hands.

Her brows arched, but she brushed back her sleeves and reached across the counter to receive the pressed paper that now bore a delicate spray of plum blossoms.

She peered at his painting closely, flipped it, sniffed it, and even found the watermark. “Is this from …?”

Junpei nodded.

“Did you enjoy …?”

Still tongue-tied, he pressed a hand to his heart and bowed his head.

“Again,” she ordered.

His gaze jumped to hers.

She held out a new block of chocolate, wrapped in the same luxurious paper. Showing dimples, she urged, “Bring me another. Flatter me with flowers.”

“I will. Gladly.” Junpei was relieved to have found his voice. “Is something like this enough for something so important?”

“What more are you willing to give?”

He blushed at her tone, but he carried through with the second half of his plan. “If it’s all right, may I borrow your parasol?”

She blinked, and laughter bubbled up. Not the mocking sort, though. She seemed pleased to be asked.

A minute later, Chika came around the counter and pressed her paper parasol into his hands. Junpei’s thoughts were already on the colors he’d choose and the flowers she might favor, so he wasn’t prepared for her nose to bump his. How had she gotten so close? Or so high, for that matter.

“Junpei,” she purred. “You have pleased me.”

Her nearness left him cross-eyed. “Ah … well … good?”

She startled him further by rubbing her cheek against his, then switching sides to rub the other. “My people are affectionate.”

“O-oooh.” His heart was skipping, and a sweet scent made his cheeks warm.

“This is how I will welcome your gifts.”

Junpei eased back and whispered, “Are you teasing me, Chika-sama?”

She shook her head. “Even a trickster knows the value of trust. Give me a chance to win yours.”

“I will.” And because it was true, he repeated, “Gladly.”

They Found Each Other

The wolves called for another meeting at the Starmark compound, and Anna was obliged to attend. During the long walk there, Matsu explained that the Elderbough trackers had been trying to confirm rumors of strangers in Keishi. “They must have found something,” he said, without any trace of concern.

Anna looked to Paltry, who’d insisted on escorting them. “I haven’t heard. So it can’t be too urgent.”

“Why gather if there is nothing to report?” she asked.

“Friends do,” said the wolf vaguely.

Matsu chuckled … but Anna couldn’t see why.

Harmonious was waiting at the entrance and came striding their way, but as far as she could tell, his only concern was playing the good host. Meeting her palms, he quickly shifted so that his were supporting hers. “Have you been well?”

“As you can see,” she said stiffly.

“Thank goodness,” he murmured, moving on to greet Matsu in kind.

Quen arrived to pull her inside, softly reminding her of his denmates’ names as so many siblings, cousins, nieces, and nephews greeted her in passing. Opal was already there, ensconced upon a cushioned bench, surrounded by an eager audience. As usual. People were always begging for stories from him.

Anna recognized his tale. He told “The Queen’s Footpath” often and well. Unlike many of the more traditional romantic ballads, this one sparkled with humor, for the moon maid was silly and clumsy by turns.

Paltry came up behind her and sighed. “Is he still spinning this old yarn?”

“This is one of his favorites.” She shook her head. “I cannot understand it.”

“Which part?”

“The moon maid … she is nothing but trouble. Why would the wolf invite so much disaster into his den?”

Paltry laughed.

Anna’s confusion doubled.

“I’m sure he had reason enough.” Nodding toward the bard, Paltry asked, “It’s a love story, isn’t it?”

“I suppose.”

The wolf’s smile gentled. “Opal pretties it up a fair bit, but the long and the short of it is … they found each other.”

“I suppose,” she grudgingly repeated. “Since the story is about a wolf.”

“Everyone knows how canines are about bonds,” Paltry agreed amiably. “We’re protective of those we cherish. And attentive in small ways. See? Harmonious has seen to our comfort.”

He nodded toward the room beyond, where rugs and cushions surrounded low tables laden with teapots and covered dishes.

“We make good allies and better friends.” Paltry urged her forward with a touch. “Take heart, Midori-san, and take the seat Quen is saving for you.”

Eloquence beckoned, and she accepted his invitation, first greeting Rise before settling against his bulk. There were more wolves today, and she spotted crests from horse and moth clans. Hisoka had returned, and he spoke in low tones with Matsu. Opal finished his tale to a smattering of applause and sauntered in ahead of Laud, who closed the doors and added sigils.

“Merit, Boon, you boys may begin.” Harmonious scanned the room, nodded to himself, then came to sit at Anna’s other side.

She decided to ignore him in favor of the trackers’ report.

Merit rambled though opening courtesies in his father’s stead—polite and to-the-point. Anna was favorably impressed with Harmonious’ heir. He was sensible without being tiresome about it. By contrast, his friend Boon adopted a deceptively easy-going manner.

“No dragons have settled in this part of the world. The closest harems are on the continent, and the nearest heights are even farther afield.” Merit looked toward Opal, and his smile made him look even more like his father. “However, we Starmarks cannot discount the songs of stars.”

Anna wasn’t sure what he meant by that, and she missed any explanation, because Harmonious leaned over to murmur, “More tea, Anna?”

She didn’t wish to be impolite. “Thank you,” she said crisply, before pointedly turning her attention back to Merit.

Harmonious filled her cup.

Midway through Merit’s list of Amaranthine on staff at Ingress Academy, Harmonious interrupted again.

“Another cushion?”

Anna whispered, “Do not trouble yourself.”

Introductions followed. One of their guests was Mare Rilka Withershanks, a healer from the horse clans. And the Nightbide clan had sent a scribe.

Again, Harmonious distracted Anna with questions.

“Have you tasted these?” Lifting the cover off a serving dish, he revealed rows of small cakes. “Churlish borrowed our kitchen earlier. He has a gift for pastries.”

“Or these,” murmured Quen, indicating a bamboo tray of daifuku. “They’re from the House of the Noble Chrysanthemum.”

She perked up.

Quen beamed and secured two for her.

Harmonious snagged one for himself and cautiously tested his fangs on it. The mochi gummed and stretched and became unwieldy. His brows buckled in bewilderment, and he muffled his grunt of surprise by cramming the whole thing in his mouth.

Quen plastered both hands over his, stifling giggles.

“Whu–?” Harmonious tried around the glom. “Whuh iff vish?”

Anna only knew because she’d asked Chika the same question. “Pounded, sweetened rice … folded around mashed, sweetened beans.”

He grunted again. And choked a little.

Anna passed him her tea, which he gratefully downed. To Quen, she said, “I do not think it is to his taste.”

“More for me,” exulted the boy.

“For us,” she corrected, taking a dainty bite of her new favorite.

Harmonious refilled Anna’s teacup and gulped and scowled. But there was a shine in his eyes, and she thought that if he’d had a tail, it would be thumping tatami.

He ranged outward to find more tea, having drained their pot.

Quen leaned into Anna, and she glanced down in surprise. She wasn’t used to these sorts of affections. What had Paltry said? Good allies and better friends. This certainly had the feel of camaraderie to it, though the boy’s gaze was fixed with awe upon his father.

“What?” she whispered.

He looked from her to him and back again before whispering, “Da is smiling.”

Anna tried to think back. Yes, she was sure. “He smiles often enough.”

“He does,” Quen slowly agreed. “When you are here.”

Through the Garden Door

Junpei was setting out his paints when his brother eased open the sliding screen to the garden and crawled through. The sneak. He’d been pulling this trick ever since he was little, because Mother couldn’t scold him for interrupting Junpei if she didn’t know he was trespassing.

Even though it was an intrusion, Junpei had never turned Sho away. He didn’t do it often. Only when something was bothering him. Or when he needed to talk.

“Good evening,” Junpei murmured, fishing a second cushion out from under his table.

Sho sat upon it and quietly asked, “What’re you doing?”

“I have this new paper. The paint loves it, so I’ve been making flowers bloom.”

His brother hummed uncertainly, smiled tentatively. “Looks like you’re having fun …?”

“I am.”

“You really like flowers, huh?”

“I suppose I do.”

“Nobody ever teases you?” Sho ventured.

“Usually, nobody ever finds out.” Junpei wondered if someone had been making fun of Sho for one of his pastimes. “I did get asked if I was a gardener, recently. Had to tell them no. I wasn’t qualified for the job.”

“Hmm?”

Junpei slid a painting he’d begun last night across the table. A stone lantern like the ones at Kikusawa Shrine, with a scattering of tiny red flower petals carried on a playful breeze. He said, “Did you want to talk about what happened the other day?”

It was only a guess.

“Hmm?” Sho kept his gaze on the painting. “Which thing do you mean?”

“Well, you met some of my friends while we were up top. The two men who were with me.”

“Oh? Oooh.” Sho seemed genuinely bewildered. “Did something like that happen?”

Junpei thought a lot had happened. “The bookseller with glasses? The boy with purple hair? The man with red eyes?”

His little brother rolled his eyes. “Maybe you should be the novelist.”

He didn’t remember? Is this what Matsu had meant? Junpei forced a laugh. “I guess it does sound pretty fanciful.”

Sliding back the painting, Sho asked, “Who’s this one for?”

“Do you remember the girl I saw?”

“I didn’t see her.” His brother squinted. “You weren’t making her up?”

“She’s real, and she’s … interested in me. I guess.” Lowering his voice, Junpei begged, “It’s too soon to tell Mother, though. Okay?”

“You’ve got a girl?”

“Yes.” He tried to sound casual. He probably flubbed it.

Sho hummed again. “What do you like about her?”

Junpei ventured, “Everything …?”

His brother snorted. “That’s the kind of answer that doesn’t say anything. You better come up with a better reason before Mother catches wind.”

“Probably.” Junpei shyly confessed, “She has brown hair. It’s even lighter than yours.”

“You don’t mind?”

“Mmm … nope. She’s lovely.”

Sho said, “So she’ll actually kinda look like my sister?”

“She’ll be your sister.”

“You sound pretty confident.” His teasing smile fell away. “Can you afford a bride?”

Junpei didn’t want Sho to worry about money. “It’ll be fine. One of the town elders and the new silk merchant found out about my painting. They commissioned some work, and they’ve offered to be my patrons.”

“They’ll pay you to paint?”

“Yes.”

“That’s … really good, isn’t it?”

“It’s all been amazing. I’ve never had such an exciting week in my life.” Junpei lightly touched the red flower petals in his tiny painting. He was worried for Naoki and Hajime. “You really can’t remember the boy who was talking to you at the Shrine?”

“Please don’t ask,” whispered Sho.

Junpei was suddenly, horribly worried. Something about his brother’s expression brought Opal the Sage to mind. “I won’t. I don’t have to.” He borrowed a page from Naoki’s book. “There are truths along the edges, and those are safe to say.”

Sho’s gaze turned pleading.

“Did you meet someone new the other day?”

“Yes.”

“And I suppose they’ve been back?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“New things can be pretty amazing. Just because someone is different, doesn’t mean they’re bad.” Junpei gently tweaked a lock of his brother’s hair. “There are all kinds of people in the world.”

“If you say so.” Sho gave the tiniest shake of his head.

Junpei was almost afraid to ask. “Did your new friend … scare you?”

Sho swallowed hard. “Not at first.”

It hardly took any coaxing for Sho to agree to stay the night in Junpei’s room. And it took even less time for Junpei to make up his mind to tell Paltry. Tomorrow. Right after work. Well, after work and after a brief visit to the House of the Noble Chrysanthemum.

We Should Talk More

Junpei wasn’t sure how often he was meant to call upon Chika, so he’d gone with his own impulse and dropped by her family’s shop every day. The visits were brief. All he really did was present her with his latest painting on the paper sleeves from the chocolates she’d given.

Orchids touched with pink, nodding in a spring breeze.

They’d earned him a smile, and she urged, “More.”  

Bamboo against a sunlit haze, green and gold with the promise of summer.

She’d filled his hands with more chocolates and kissed his cheek before murmuring, “More.”  

The papers from those sweets were back in Junpei’s room, being flattened between the pages of a book. Except for the one he’d shown to Sho last night. That one probably counted as a personal piece. Because … hmm. Why was that again? Naoki would remember, surely.

For today, Junpei was ready to return Chika’s parasol.

She beckoned for him to follow her into the garden behind the shop, where he placed the newly embellished accessory upon her outstretched palms.

She opened it, admiring the cascades of plum blossoms he’d added. Propping it over her shoulder, she twirled merrily and asked, “Will there be chrysanthemums, next?”  

Junpei was honestly amazed. “How did you guess?”

“That my gentleman knows the Four Gentlemen?” Chika’s gaze softened. “I’m very good at guessing, but I’d rather know things because you tell me.”

“That would be good.” He tucked his hands into his sleeves and admitted, “There’s so much I don’t know.”

“Walk with me,” Chika invited, indicating the door. “Talk with me.”

She gathered a small drawstring bag and her wrap, since evening was nearing. Pride stirred when she brought the parasol as well.

“Where do you want to go?” he asked.

Chika hummed. “Somewhere you are drawn to.”

“The shrine?” he suggested.

“All right. I haven’t been up there since returning.” She indicated that he should lead.

Contrary to custom, he stayed by her side. “You’ve been away?”

“For quite some time.” Chika eyed him thoughtfully. “You know about the difference between Amaranthine and human life spans?”

“Paltry explained. It must be wonderful to have such a full life.”

She smiled tentatively. “You’re not bothered?”

“A little, I suppose. It makes me want to paint a thousand pictures and then a thousand more. So you’ll have beautiful things to remember me by.” Junpei lowered his gaze. “Is that too presumptuous?”

“No. I’m presuming all over the place, myself. Or did you not notice that I claimed you before we were introduced.”

“I noticed. I did wonder,” he admitted. “But I’ve never questioned it.”

“Maybe you should ask more questions.”

Junpei ventured, “If you’re newly returned, where did you go?”

“A faraway land across the sea. They had chocolate there. And new songs. And strange customs. And many secrets.” She favored him with another smile. “While I was there, I made up my mind to find a man with a beautiful soul once I returned, and here you were.”

“Am I here now because of a song … or a custom … or a secret?” he asked, half-joking.

Chika slipped her hand into his and coyly asked, “Why not all three?”

Junpei hardly minded having to stoop under torii gates all the way up the long stair, but he did straighten and unobtrusively stretch once he was in the open again. Only to lose his breath with a startled, “Oof,” as Chika shoved the length of her closed parasol into his midriff.

“Hold this,” she ordered in an urgent undertone … and vanished.

Help Will Find You

Anna’s restlessness drove her to patrol the boundaries of Kikusawa Shrine several times throughout the day, even though the Elderbough pack knew their business. She needed some occupation.

Sunset hues were streaking the sky when Matsu scolded her for neglecting her lessons with the children. “Let them distract you in useful ways.”

She accepted this as she would an order, but she murmured, “Something is bothering me.”

“Have you seen anything?”

Anna hated to speak the possibility aloud. “Even if I had, would I remember?”

Matsu frowned. “The wards have been refreshed, and we have friends close at hand.”

“Yes, but ….”

The children crowded around, and greetings rose on every side, since they’d lost their trepidation. Although Matsu had encouraged them to call her Midori-san, most had come up with slightly different versions of her name. They called her big sister or lady, angel or saint.

She hardly minded, since they did the same for Matsu. With honorifics, they claimed a connection to him, and in accepting their many nicknames, diminutives, and endearments, Matsu let them know they belonged.

Anna appreciated the subtleties, even as she despaired of unraveling them all. There was so much to learn. Not just the words, but their nuances.

“What shall we teach Midori-san today?” asked Matsu, once everyone was seated.

Suggestions rang out, and she tried not to chafe at their childishness. She had learned the names of colors and seasons and numbers and so many different animals. But these weren’t the kinds of words she needed most.

“May I ask for some words I want to know?”

Matsu smiled encouragingly. “Let us hear them.”

“Run,” she said.

He translated, and the children helped her practice.

Next, she asked, “Hide?”

They taught her the word, and they talked of running games and hiding games.

“Danger,” she said.

Matsu grew solemn, but he calmly provided the word she wanted.

“What about … find help?” Anna asked. “Or … bring Paltry?”

The shrine keeper didn’t translate her request for the children. “He and his shop are not easy for ordinary children to find. But if you speak your need aloud, there are ears to hear. Call out, and if your need is great, you will be answered.”

“By whom?” she asked skeptically. “I know a wolf’s ears are good, but …!”

Matsu lifted a hand and said, “Kusunoki.”

As one, the children turned toward the tree that dominated the courtyard. Two of the little girls clapped their hands twice and bowed their heads.

Anna asked, “You pray to the tree?”

“Kusunoki is a friend to all who live under his branches,” Matsu said mildly. “If you need help, it will find you.”

So cryptic. Anna wanted more particulars, but she could wait for a private conversation.

“Oh, no!” complained one of the boys. “It’s him. He’s back.”

In the deepening shadows near the treeline, a boy peered at them from around a stone lantern. He gestured imperiously, and Sho slowly stood.  

“Have you made a new friend?” asked Matsu.

“No,” whispered one of the girls.

“I don’t like him,” said another.

“And why is that?” quizzed Matsu.

“He’s bossy. And sneaky.”

“Shisoku is … different,” said Sho, shuffling toward the other boy. “He scares me.”

Matsu translated for her, and Anna jumped to her feet, grabbing his arm. “Where are you going?”

Sho tried to shrug his way free, saying something more.

Again, Matsu translated. “He says he has to go. That he’s that boy’s favorite.”

“Did he not say the boy frightens him?”

After a brief exchange, Matsu’s eyes widened. “I believe he’s being compelled. And by more than threats to the littler children.”

She dearly wished for her sword. “I will go with him.”

Matsu whispered something to Sho, who looked up at her. “Thank you, Saint Midori.”

Anna kept her hand where it was and let Sho lead her toward the pale Amaranthine boy whose sneer filled her with dread. The closer they came, the surer she was that his hair wasn’t just dark … it was dark purple. And those eyes. She knew those eyes.

“Dragon,” she whispered.

The Amaranthine boy’s chin came up. “I do not need you. Only him. Go away.”

Anna turned around and walked away, even though some part of her soul screamed against leaving Sho behind. But the dragon had only said to go … not where she must go. So Anna strode swiftly toward the room where her sword waited.

Except she didn’t get that far. Someone sideswiped her, carrying her upward.

It was still away, so it was fine. “Chika?” she managed. “There is a dragon.”

Leaves and branches smacked Anna about her head and shoulders as Chika carried her up into the courtyard’s tree. When they arrived upon a sturdy limb, Anna latched on, holding tight. To her astonishment, a few of the children were already seated among the nearest branches. How had Chika brought them so swiftly?

Her new friend grimly promised, “I can help. So can he.”

Suddenly, she was facing a thickset young man with flowers in his long, black hair. Craggy features. Glittering green eyes. Urgent tones. “Stay quiet. I will bring Paltry.”

Anna wanted to argue. She was a battler. This was her fault. Sho was still in danger. But the stranger was gone, and the only thing she managed to ask was, “Who was that?”

Chika pressed her finger to Anna’s lips. “Hush,” she insisted. “That was Kusunoki.”

There Is a Dragon

Junpei wavered at the top of the stairs. Chika may have been fond of surprises, but her disappearance hadn’t felt like a silly prank. Something was wrong, but where? Leaning the parasol behind a stone lantern, he took a few steps, listening hard.

Too quiet.

So tense.

Junpei rubbed at the palm of his hand, where Uncle Haruki had drawn a mark. If things were happening, he should be able to see them. Right?

Maybe not. So Junpei asked the emptiness, “Is something wrong? Can I help?”

A man appeared—big and sturdy and strange. Just … blinked into existence and loomed over him.

“Ehyahhh…!” Junpei’s exclamation wavered to an end as recognition dawned. This had to be the childhood friend Matsu had mentioned, although he looked much younger than the shrinekeeper. And why was he crowned with red flowers? They were certainly striking … and vaguely familiar. “S-sorry. Hello. I’m Junpei …?”

“I know. Come with me.”

Junpei stepped forward, asking, “Where …?”

The question was barely begun when strong hands closed around Junpei’s upper arms, and the world went dark. Or … dim? Junpei peered around—walls, ceiling beams, cabinets, boxes. “Where is this?”

“One of the storehouses. It should be safe.”

“Safe from …?”

“Mmm, dragons.”

Junpei didn’t like the sound of that. “Where’s Chika?”

“Helping to hide the children.”

Uncertainty veered into dread. “Is my brother out there?”

A jerky nod. “Sho is in danger.”

“Where?” Junpei caught the fullness of the man’s sleeve. “I need to get to him.”

He hesitated. “Chika wants you hidden.”

“Sho is my brother!” Junpei’s eyes were adjusting, and he frantically searched the dim, this time for a door. “He needs me!”

“Mmm, true.” The man’s gaze went soft with sympathy. “I understand.”

“Take me to him!”

“Near him,” he promised. “But not too close. This dragon is dangerous.”

And then Junpei was in a different part of the twilit courtyard, where Sho stood with another boy.

“Play with me!” demanded the dark-haired boy who had Sho by the front of his half-coat. “Do it right!”

“Sho!” called Junpei. “Time to go. It’ll be dinnertime soon. Mother will be waiting.”

“Who are you?” asked the strange boy, head tipping to one side as he considered him.

“My brother,” said Sho, whose gaze pleaded with Junpei.

Stepping forward, Junpei asked, “What game are you playing? Could I join?”

“You feel nice,” said the boy, who crooked the fingers of his free hand. “Even nicer than this one. Why is that? Come closer.”

It was like Opal all over again. Junpei needed to take a step, but he found that one was enough.

“I said come closer,” grumbled the boy, whose hold on Sho slipped enough to show tears in the yellow cloth.

“What game are we playing?” asked Junpei, who slid forward another half-step.

The boy released Sho.

In the same instant, Matsu’s flower-crowned friend appeared behind Sho, pulled him close, and vanished. Safe!

A hiss of surprise. A narrowing of red eyes. “You tricked me!”

Junpei watched in horror as the boy’s balled fists uncurled, revealing wicked claws. He crouched, coiling to spring, but before the attack came, someone intervened, scooping Junpei off his feet and carrying him away.

“Good evening, Junpei,” Paltry rumbled. “Thank you for your help. We’ll handle it from here.”

The world righted itself, and they were overlooking Kikusawa’s central courtyard from atop the main shrine. Junpei heaved a shuddering breath. Maybe the between place that the dexes had brought him into wasn’t all teacakes and tail-wagging.

A howl sounded in the distance, and Paltry turned toward the sound. His smile showed a hint of fang. And then, “Kusunoki?”

That was it! The name of Matsu’s friend. He’d somehow forgotten.

Kusunoki popped into existence at Paltry’s side, arms open to receive Junpei.

“Sho …?” he managed, wanting to be sure his brother was safe.

But Kusunoki only begged, “Hurry!”

Paltry snarled and dove as the screams of children came from below.

Lend Me the Sword

Anna didn’t want to frighten the children huddled among the branches around her, but she needed answers. Now.

“Chika,” she called. “What’s going on? Where is Matsu? Why are his children crying?”

But the voice that answered wasn’t Chika.

“Opal stashed you in a tree? He shall find you plucked.”

“Look at this tree, brother,” urged a second voice. “Look closely!”

“Is this really the time for specimens?” And raising his voice for her benefit, “I have had a long journey, beauty. Reward me well!”

Beneath her feet, power swelled, and in the fading light, she thought she caught the ripple and twist of scales. At least one of her pursuers had taken truest form.

“Come away, dear child,” came a new voice in accented English.

She found herself cradled by a man whose size belied his strength.

“Good evening, Anna Green. The name’s Haruka Wendwood.”

“I remember.” Over the tanuki’s shoulder, she saw Chika sweep two little ones from the lower branches.

“My niece sent word. We’ll do what we can until … ah. Here they are.” Haruka glided to the tile roof of one of the shrine’s storehouses and steadied Anna on her feet.

She crouched low as an enormous dog hit the central courtyard with enough force to crater flagstone.

Haruka clucked his tongue. “Hardly subtle, but a good distraction. Stay safe.”

And Anna was alone again, only stranded on a roof this time. “Kusunoki!” she whispered, not wanting to attract the twin dragons.

An instant later, the young man stood beside her and generously helped her to her feet. His gaze was patient, though slightly unsettling. The green of his eyes seemed to be faceted, and they gleamed unnaturally in the fading light.

“There is a weapon here. I know about it from Opal.”

He simply nodded.

“Give it to me, so I can fight.” When he didn’t answer, she shook his arm. “I have trained for this! Yield the Chrysanthemum Blaze to me!”

“Anna Green,” he finally said. “Matsu trusts you. I will trust you.”

Kusunoki’s large hands gripped her shoulders, and the hush of indoors closed around her—still, silent, and smelling of incense. She shifted her weight, and her hip jostled something in the utter blackness. “I cannot see.”

“Wait a moment.”

He was gone. She felt him go and knew she was alone. But then he was simply there again, holding a painted lantern at the end of a stick. Lifting it toward the far corner, he indicated an ornate cupboard.

If it held a fabled treasure, no hint of its presence reached her. However, once Kusunoki fiddled with the tricky catches and the doors swung wide, the resonance of potent stones called.

“He is willing. Wield him well,” murmured her companion.

Lanternlight glinted off red facets as she lifted the Chrysanthemum Blaze from its stand. The blade was heavy for its size, but Anna was confident in her strength. “Out,” she ordered.

Gently pulling her into his side, Kusunoki effortlessly transferred Anna to the field of battle.

You Are Safe Now

Junpei stumbled off-balance when Kusunoki abandoned him in the dark. Unsure if it was the same room as last time, Junpei chose a direction and shuffled forward, arms outstretched. His fingers bumped wood paneling. Orienting himself to the wall, he moved to one side, seeking the door, which he hauled open on its hinges by a big ring handle.

“Thank you, Junpei,” said Hisoka Araki. “Your timing could not be better.”

He squinted into the light of a familiar chrysanthemum-flourished lantern, which seemed to kindle flames in Hisoka’s orange eyes. The city elder dropped his gaze and pivoted, bringing Junpei’s attention to the limp child draped over his arm.

“Akemi!” Junpei quickly relieved Hisoka of his burden. There was blood on the girl’s torn clothing.

“Coming through,” said Paltry, who carried two more children. “Posy, can you manage more lights?”

Hisoka moved to the lamps arranged throughout the room, and as illumination spread, Junpei guessed that this building was used to store and maintain clothing. Kimono stands took up much of the floor space, and neat piles of folded cloth occupied a long table. Hushed. Safe. But the scent of blood jarred Junpei into action. Surely Matsu wouldn’t mind if he used something here for bandages.

Paltry set down one of his small passengers, and the boy burst into tears.

“It’s okay, Kenzou.” Junpei beckoned. “You and Taiki are safe now.”

While he tried to calm the frightened child, Junpei looked to Paltry, who was patting Taiki’s ashen cheek. The wolf inhaled deeply, and his tail tucked. “Posy, there’s poison.”

Hisoka grimaced. “Warn the others.”

“Done.”

Already moving for the door, Hisoka said, “I’ll bring Rilka.”

“Hurry.” To Junpei, Paltry added, “One of our healers.”

Kusunoki reappeared with a child in each arm, both uninjured, and immediately vanished. And Uncle Haruka—or possibly Haruki—skidded through the door with a youngster clutching a bloodied shoulder. And then Quen hustled Sho through the door. Both boys carried clingy little ones.

“Sho!” Junpei called.

His little brother wasted no time getting to his side. “Jun-nii, he … he was so angry with me. Is it my fault?”

“This isn’t on you, kid.” Paltry’s voice rumbled with authority. “Do what you can here. You’ll be okay. Wendwood illusions are keeping this place under wraps.”

The wolf drew a sword as he strode out, his tail puffed double.  

Junpei counted heads and knew there were children missing. Three more boys. One of Matsu’s daughters. Matsu himself. He started for the door.

Quen caught his arm. “Stay here.”

The boy wore armor, and a sword rode at his waist. He looked far more equipped for the confusion outside.

“Can’t we do anything?” He gestured, hoping to get his meaning across.

Quen smiled grimly and spoke in simple terms. “Uncle Laud told me to guard this door. That is what I can do.”

Junpei wryly admitted, “That’s probably more than I can do.”

Hisoka landed on the flagstones in front of them, followed by a woman who merely nodded in passing. She must be the healer. Junpei wasn’t sure if he should be more amazed by the speed of their arrival … or that they’d seemingly dropped from the sky. He leaned out, scanning the emerging stars.

Sho returned to his side, pale and tense as he peered into the courtyard.

Junpei couldn’t help checking him over, needing to reassure himself. To his dismay, the front of his brother’s half-coat was soaked with blood. “Were you cut? Or … scratched?”

“No. Not me,” said Sho.

He was relieved, and then he was astonished. “Look!” Junpei breathed.  

One by one, lights bloomed in the stone lanterns, but they couldn’t have been lit by normal lamps. Soft colors pooled on the ground—pink, blue, green, gold. Beautiful. But as more lights rose into the air, twinkling and spinning, they illuminated a nightmare scene. Scales writhed as a serpentine creature curled upward, winding its body around the sacred tree’s trunk.

Junpei glanced at Quen, whose jaw was set, and then at Sho.

Tears streaked his little brother’s face. Sho brokenly relayed, “It’s Matsu’s blood.”

Writhing Scales of Purple

Anna stalked across the courtyard, gathering her ire so that the crystal sword hummed in her hands. Boon whipped around, gaze wary, but she lifted a hand, signaling for forces to rally. In a heartbeat, Boon, Paltry, and Laud formed ranks around her, ready to defend.

Harmonious found his way to her, but he looked both awkward and unarmed. “Anna, are you well?”

“I am imperiled,” she countered. “As you can see.”

“I … well, yes.” His gaze dropped to the weapon in her hands. “But not acquired, captured, or confined. Which is heartening.”

“Get behind us, Harmonious Starmark.”

He glanced toward the dragon, which had begun to unwind from the tree. “I would feel better if you didn’t have to fa–”

“I am a battler,” she growled. “I know what I am about!”

Harmonious simply crouched so they were eye-to-eye and patiently finished his sentence. “If you didn’t have to face them alone. I may not have my brother’s skill with weaponry, but I can support you.”

She shook her head. She didn’t need shielding. He was in the way!

“Ride me,” he invited. “Where I come from, battlers ride dogs.”

“It’s true enough,” said Paltry.

“Trick riding requires training,” warned Boon. “And trust.”

Anna hesitated.

“Let me keep my promise,” pleaded Harmonious. “They cannot take you if I have you.”

“Speed. Mobility,” said Laud.

Boon grinned and added, “All those big, sharp teeth.”

“Yes,” she snapped. “All right. Yes.”

Harmonious turned to crouch, and Anna gaped at him.

Laud snapped, “Get on.”

Oh! Anna scrambled to comply and was barely astride his broad shoulders when Harmonious leapt skyward, narrowly missing the lash of a scaled tail. Then she was scrambling for a handhold when her companion diffused into a dazzling shift that she’d only ever seen from a safe distance. Power and personality clashed against her senses, and then there was fur between her fingers and a howl in her ears.

Anna rode what looked like a great red wolf, and he galloped in a tight circle above the shrine, giving her an unparalleled view. Channeling her considerable fury into red crystal that seemed to lap it up and look for more, she smiled grimly as the Chrysanthemum Blaze bloomed with a lurid glow. She tuned her soul to its song and laughed.

Two dragons twisted their heads to find her in the sky. Together they launched from the courtyard, helpless to resist, drawn toward their deaths.

“Higher,” Anna ordered her mount. And to the hissing dragons, “Come to me! My answer is ready!”

Drift of Flower Petals

Howls and a shrill fluting sent a shiver down Junpei’s spine, and he eased back into the shelter of the doorway, even as Quen stepped into the open, craning his neck to see what was happening.

“Da took truest form,” he reported.

Junpei edged out, peering into the dark. “I don’t see anything.”

“They took flight.” Quen’s gaze followed some point overhead. “The dragons are chasing him.”

“Not entirely true,” said a voice that made Junpei flinch. Opal the Sage was ushering a small group of people to their shelter. The dragon winced and clamped his hands over his ears. “Anna is luring them with the Blaze.”

Paltry rushed to the dragon and hauled him into his arms. “What do you need?” he rumbled.

“Wards. Several.” With a brittle laugh, Opal complained, “What a racket.”

They bustled him inside, and Junpei whispered, “I don’t hear anything.”

Quen shook his head and shrugged.

“So … are they leading the dragons away?” asked Junpei.

“Nooo,” the boy said, his gaze jumping from one point to another. “I do not think that is Anna’s plan.”

Hisoka Araki called for attention. “While the way is clear, we need to move everyone from Matsu’s household. Please, move the uninjured to the archive, which must also be preserved. Scribe Nightbide is waiting to receive us there.”

Paltry asked, “Haruka, Haruki, how much of this place can you shield?”

“Not the whole property. You’ll need to pick and choose.”

Hisoka turned to Matsu’s kin. “Guide our choices.”

Matsu’s two younger brothers and their families also served as shrinekeepers. Matsu’s wife stood with them, and Junpei was relieved to see their missing daughter safely tucked against her side. They exchanged looks and murmured among themselves before Matsu’s aged mother gave their decision. “The main shrine. The archive. The treasure room.”

“We’ll do all we can,” Hisoka promised.

More people arrived—wolves, if their tails were anything to go by—and they quickly escorted everyone away. Sho went with them, but Junpei hung back. A hand slipped into his, and he glanced down to find Chika at his side.

“What about the injured?” asked a lady wolf.

“Rilka?” inquired Hisoka.

She offered a sad smile and a small headshake.

Junpei saw every tail in the room tuck.

Chika slipped from his side. “I can help, Mare Withershanks. Entrust their dreams to me, and they will be sweet.”

What did they mean? Junpei couldn’t bring himself to ask.

Quen sniffled and turned away.

“Are they … dying?” he whispered, heartbroken. Akemi, Taiki, Masao, and Hina. 

Again, a hand found his, but when he looked to see who it was, a finger pressed to his lips. He stared into red eyes for a startled moment before Hajime stole him away.

“Will you come?” he asked.

Junpei was already gone, standing among the softly glowing lights in one of the side gardens. “Is Naoki here?” he ventured.

Trembling fingertips touched his lips again. “Do not say our names. Please.”

He simply nodded.

“Come and hold Kusunoki’s hand.”

Junpei nodded, but he whispered, “Why?”

“My son needs a friend. That is how we are.” Hajime sadly added, “He asked for you.”

“Kusunoki did?”

Hajime’s headshake scattered flower petals. “Matsu did.”

One of Four Storms

Anna was getting a feel for the way Harmonious moved. With a fistful of fur and curt orders, she guided him higher, staying beyond the dragons’ reach. The twins twisted and snapped, eyes gleaming with an unnatural light. She shuddered to think how such reprehensible creatures had gained the sky.

When she unleashed a greater measure of her soul, her mount’s stride faltered.

“Do not lose trust now, Harmonious Starmark!” she called challengingly.

He wheeled and snarled at the oncoming dragons.

One hesitated, but the other leapt for her, and she flung all her outrage into a swing of the Chrysanthemum Blaze. Though styled as a blade, the crystals served as a conduit for her brutal intent. Arcs of brilliance span away, slashing through purple scales and eliciting a shrilling bellow.

The air went still, not a breath stirred, as if the wind itself let the dragon fall.

“Follow!” she cried, sending another slash after the tumbling dragon.

Harmonious dropped, and they bore down, pressing the attack. Focused power sliced, clipping a wing. The dragon wailed, and his twin plunged squalling after him, attempting to cushion his landing. They careened toward the shrine, flipped off a barrier, and skewed down the slope in a disastrous tumble that turned the long line of torii arches into kindling.

Harmonious landed in the street below, and Anna slid from his shoulders, stepping through shattered wood and strewn branches. In the light cast by the Blaze, she noted the dark spatter of blood as the dragons floundered apart.

Shifting into speaking form, the shorter brother stumbled back, heaving for air and clutching at his side. “One of the Storms,” he hissed, eyes wide and wild. “Come away, brother.”

Claws scrabbled at the ground, and coils shuddered.

Spears of wood jutted from wet scales, and wings dragged.

Anna’s gaze flicked to the ruined slope. Wolves watched from different points along the hilltop, bearing mute witness. No one moved to stop her. No one questioned her actions. And in their silence, they condemned these dragons.

Lights swirled through the treetops, small and erratic, and a fragrance hung heavy in the air—floral, pleasant. It eased her rancor, and she lowered the Blaze until its tip touched the ground.

Suddenly, a boy darted from the trees and flung his arms around the waist of the dragon in speaking form. “Go away!” the child shrieked. “You, go! Now!”

Anna grit her teeth. Why was a child here?

“Make her go, Father!” begged the pale child. “Tell her to leave us alone!”

“Shisoku, I will deal with you, later,” promised the dragon. “Go, now. Get clear of here.”

The boy shrank from the threat in his father’s tone, skittering away.

That one’s gaze never strayed from Anna’s face as he stepped to his twin’s side and asked, “Can you rise, Brother?”

Curving claws made another bid for purchase, and poison hissed as it seeped to the ground.

Anna didn’t wait for him to fling it her way. With grim authority, she loosed a pulse of power that drove both dragons flat.

Her would-be suitor twisted and shifted. Huddled on the street, clutching at injuries, he resorted to words. “That is enough from you. Stop, woman.”

“No.” Anna lifted her chin. “You cannot stop me. Not anymore. Not ever.”

With the Chrysanthemum Blaze in her hands, his words were nothing. She could resist. He was powerless.

He must have realized it as well, for his gaze swung past her. Sucking in air, he raised his voice. “Stop her, dog.”

Anna stiffened when arms enfolded her from behind. She turned slightly and muttered, “This is hardly helpful.”

Harmonious’ brows were tight-knit, his gaze troubled.

She tried to push him back with an elbow.

He hid his face against her neck. “Anna,” he managed. “Anna.”

“Forget, dog.” The dragon sneered and demanded, “Forget her.”

A growl vibrated through Anna’s whole body, and Harmonious snarled, “Why does everyone think I should forget? I will not let go of those I love! Never!”

Anna reached up to yank a handful of auburn hair. “I forbid you to forget. So take heed.”

And because it was the only thing she could think to do, Anna initiated tending. It was a rough thing, for she was no more a cosset than a bard, and her soul was riled.

He grunted, and his hold on her tightened.

“You cannot forget someone once they are a part of you. Take in my scent, dog. Learn the shape of my soul, though its song is far from gentle.”

“A-anna,” he said gruffly. He breathed in, and she felt the drag on her soul, as if he were drinking deeply.

“Hardly the time,” she warned.

With a murmured apology, he pressed his lips to her shoulder and … tried to put back what he’d taken. At least, that’s what it felt like. Strength rushed into Anna, doubling her resources, then doubling them again. Headier than strong drink, surer than steel.

“You make a good ally, Harmonious Starmark.” And gathering all he’d given, Anna channeled it through the Blaze and struck her tormentor, knocking him back.

“Brother!” squealed the other, who returned to truest form, gathering up his twin and taking to the sky in a limping, listing flight.

Far from satisfied, Anna pushed more into the Blaze and commanded, “After them!”

Harmonious remained in speaking form, catching her up and swiftly gaining height. But in that moment, the night sky shattered, and brilliance blinded them. A voice thundered with urgency, almost too loud to hear, and it begged Anna for mercy.

Not for the fleeing dragons, but for one much dearer and closer to hand.

“Opal!” she gasped.

A Hand to Hold

Because Hajime brought him around from a series of paths he’d never used before, Junpei felt a little lost. But he was grateful for a better look at the mysterious lights that had appeared all around the shrine. It was as if someone had stolen stars from the sky. Or gathered up the scattered shards of a rainbow.

Up close, he could see that they were crystals, though he couldn’t imagine who had strung them in midair. He was still trying to think how to capture their luminescence in a painting when something fluttered past.

Wings? Not a moth, surely. It had felt larger than that. Had sleepy birds fled their roosts?

Another series of short wingbeats descended, and something caught in his hair, chittering as it clung. He balked, pulling Hajime up short, and whispered, “What is it?”

“You are attracting Ephemera. Calm yourself. These are both harmless and adorable.”

“Get it off?” he begged, bending so his companion could reach.

Hajime made hushing sounds. Maybe they were for the animal. Maybe they were for him. And when he stepped back, he had a strange creature in his hands. A teensy, winged monkey with pale fur that glowed in much the same way Churlish did.

“Nothing to fear,” soothed Hajime. “Not from innocents such as these.”

“Why have I never seen one before?”

“Perhaps because you could not. You have gained, I think. Bonds have a way of building.” He passed the little animal to Junpei and smiled sadly. “Bring this one. Kusunoki dotes on them. Perhaps it will be a comfort.”

Junpei almost asked why. But he knew, even before they arrived at the base of the big tree.

Kusunoki sat among its roots, stroking Matsu’s hair and pleading with him in teary undertones. Naoki knelt at his side.

“He was like a brother to me,” Kusunoki said in pleading tones.

“I know,” soothed Naoki. “The best of brothers.”

“I needed a brother. I … I do not have one. Even though I should …?”

“That’s my fault, probably. But it couldn’t be helped, the way you were sprigged. Your other parent … well …. It was an unusual combination. And yours was the only seed that sprouted.”

“It is only natural for a tree to long for a grove,” Hajime murmured. “But look. Here is Junpei.”

Kusunoki lifted his face, and his lips trembled. “I am not a medicinal tree. I could not save him.”

“It isn’t your fault,” soothed Naoki. “Dragon poison is vicious.”

Tears trickled down Kusunoki’s face. “He tried to stop the dragon’s boy from hurting our children. Matsu … he hugged him.”

That did sound like something Matsu would do. Junpei crouched on Kusunoki’s other side. “Look what I found.”

“A quisp. They do not stir so much anymore.” Looking to Naoki, Kusunoki mumbled, “Usually only for you.”

Naoki lifted his wrists, showing off the heavy beads. “Not I. Not since your sapling days, when this was a roadside shrine.”

“That woman is to blame,” said Hajime. “She is a frightening one.”

“Mmm.” Kusunoki went back to stroking Matsu’s hair. “She drove away the dragons. Are you safe now?”

“I will make sure of it,” vowed Hajime.

“There are other wolves than Paltry,” Kusunoki fretted. “They saw me.”

“Unavoidable,” sighed Naoki. “But not insurmountable. Trust us. And … if you can, trust Junpei.”

Kusunoki frowned. “I do not want another friend.”

“You know that’s not true. Matsu knew as well. That’s why he sent for Junpei.”

Hajime urged, “Take his hand, leafling. The others will forget, but he can be company for you.”

With a stony expression, Kusunoki lifted a trembling hand.

Junpei released the quisp, which scampered onto his shoulder, and folded both his hands around Kusunoki’s larger one. Nothing more was said, but flower petals filled the air, as if every bloom in the tree overhead was falling along with Kusunoki’s tears.

The fragrance was unlike anything Junpei had ever smelled. But he decided it was … nice.

When a Heart Breaks

Harmonious returned to the street, which wasn’t where Anna wanted to be at all. “Where is Opulence?” she demanded.

“Above,” said one of the nearby wolves. “In the archive.”  

Anna swung around, intent on reaching her mentor, but the wreckage of red-painted wood barred the way. She would need to cut through the woods. But before she could redirect her steps, Harmonious spoke.

“Anna? If you will permit …?”

Why wouldn’t she? “Hurry!”

Harmonious gathered her up again, took flight, and set her before the doors to Matsu’s archive. Its extensive collection of lore had occupied Opal for much of the visit—both reading and contributing.

“Opulence?” She eased through the narrow door and scanned the crowded room. Huddled children. Members of Matsu’s family. One of the Nightbide moths. Hisoka-sensei and the she-wolf who led the Elderbough pack. “Opal?” Anna called more softly.

One of the tanuki beckoned from the far corner, and she worked her way past crowded shelves. Out of habit, she noted who was present … and who was missing.

But she reached the turning of a narrow aisle. There she found her mentor with his hands over his ears, rocking in place.

“Opal?” she whispered.

Red-rimmed eyes lifted, and the dragon summoned up a meager smile. “I am sorry to have missed the battle. Was it worthy of ballads?”

“Are you …?” She could feel that something was wrong, but she wasn’t sure what. He seemed diminished somehow. “Did I hurt you?”

He tried to wave off her concern. “I have weathered the storm. I am only slightly broken.”

“Shattered,” corrected the tanuki, who went right on layering sigils over the dragon, as if he needed armoring.

She was aghast.

“Now, Anna,” Opal chided. “I have always known it was a possibility. Just one of the many perils of taking on a prodigy.”

“Is the mare still here?”

“She has her hands full, brewing calming teas.”

“You are more important than a hot drink!” she countered.

Opal raised a quelling hand, which only shook a little. “Not to those who are very recently bereft of their kindred.”

Anna flinched. The gaps. She knew who should have been here. “Taiki … Akemi … Hina … Masao …?”

“We shall sing for them once I can manage,” Opal wearily vowed.

“Junpei,” she gasped, thinking of Chika’s beloved.

Paltry spoke up from beside Harmonious, who’d followed. “Junpei made it through.”

“Is he with Matsu?” When Paltry flinched, she begged, “Where is Matsu?”

The wolf wearily shook his head.

Anna’s horror redoubled. “I … how can I ever atone? I should not have come!”

Arms wrapped around her from behind. “Do not wish us away,” murmured Harmonious. “Your need was ours to match and meet.”

Opal fluttered his fingers at him. “I take it you did not rebuff the old dog?”

She jabbed Harmonious with an elbow, admittedly weak as rebuffs went.

He grunted and grumbled, “My concern does not mean I think you helpless. Alliances such as ours are formed between equals.”

“That one’s been bond-building,” remarked Opal.

Paltry quietly said, “It’s a good thing, too. I did see the battle, and they might not have managed otherwise.”

Anna didn’t want to consider that too closely. “But what can I do, Opal? You know I am no good with people. And I know so little of their language.”

Her mentor smiled sweetly, and his next words were lightly laced with sway. “Fear not, child. All you need to do is show them how you feel. They will understand.”

Tears immediately spilled.

Harmonious whined softly.

Hisoka-sensei took over, then, and time passed in a blur as he lent words to her regrets and her grief and her resolve to honor Matsu’s memory … somehow.

When Sensei returned her to Opal’s side, the dragon stirred enough to murmur, “Will you sing me a lullaby, Anna? I need to sleep, and I cannot hear the stars from here.”

They were not compelling words, but Anna could not refuse him.

So she took a steadying breath and sang a song of trees.

Somebody Has to Remember

A few days later, Junpei sat through the strangest dinner conversation. Because Keishi was abuzz over the devastation at Kikusawa Shrine.

“I heard from the apothecary, who heard it from the Nakamuras, who live right up against the slopes, that there was a dreadful noise that night—howling and screeching and the sound of a flute.”

Junpei supposed a dragon’s call might sound a little like a flute. “Is that so?”

“It was dragons,” said Sho, who only picked at his food.

Mother gasped. “You’re not the first to say so! My old friends at the Camelia Palace told me that two of their guests were bragging about seeing dragons in the sky. But they weren’t sure how much credence to give their tale, since the gentlemen were on their third bottle.”

“There were three dragons,” mumbled Sho.

Junpei was surprised his younger brother remembered. Everyone who’d been close to Kikusawa Shrine during the dragon attack had hazy recollections of the events. All these rumors were coming from people who’d seen something from a safe distance, but nobody could confirm anything.

Except Sho.

After the meal was over, Junpei pulled his brother aside. “You remember?”

“Somebody has to,” he grumbled.

“But how …?”

“I wrote it out. It’s a good story, but it’s more than a story. It happened.” His brother looked ready to pick a fight.

Junpei chose a soft answer. “Yes, it did. I’ll never forget.”

Sho searched his face and confessed, “I told the other boys in my class that the city was saved by Saint Midori.”

“She was amazing,” Junpei agreed.

His brother gaped at him. “You … you really do remember?”

Junpei understood then. His brother didn’t actually remember the events. All he had was his account, which was limited to the things he’d seen that night. The secrets were safe, but … Sho was suffering because of them.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“You’d listen?” he asked in a small voice.  

Junpei could do better than that. “Tell me on the way.”

His brother’s gaze turned suspicious. “On the way where?”

“To meet some friends of mine.” And taking his brother by the hand, he led the way to Moonglade Tearoom.

Can This Be Love

The moment Paltry spotted Sho at Junpei’s side, his expression softened, and he dropped to one knee. “Hey, there, Sho. Remember me at all?”

“Probably not.” Junpei put an arm around his brother’s shoulders. “Someday, people will be calling my brother Sho the Sage. He wrote an account of Saint Midori and the Dragons.”

“A budding bard, are you?” Paltry lapsed into an easy smile. “Maybe you can help a friend of mine? He’s still learning Japanese. Practice with him, and tonight’s snacks are on the house.”

Sho looked to Junpei, who’d noticed who was sitting with Churlish at the corner table. He advised, “Take Paltry up on it. You barely touched dinner.”

With a very polite bow, Sho said, “Thank you very much.”

“Come meet Quen,” urged Paltry, beckoning for Sho to follow.

Junpei waved him off. “Go make friends. My boss is here, and I want to say hello.”

Because Harmonious and Hisoka were at a table in the opposite corner.

Sho’s gaze flitted around the room, and he mumbled, “Thanks, Jun-nii.”

Junpei watched his brother greet Quen, wondering if his brother saw brown eyes or copper. Maybe it didn’t matter. He’d let the dexes decide.

Striding back, Paltry clapped Junpei’s shoulder. “Sho’s in good hands. Quen is a gentle soul.”

“Yes.” And because he couldn’t think of a tactful way to ask, Junpei blurted, “Have you forgotten anything?”

“Would I know if I had?” countered Paltry, whose smile went lopsided.

“You haven’t.”

“I haven’t,” confirmed the wolf. “Let’s just say I’m not susceptible. Churlish and I have been here a long time, so we’ve built up a resistance to … well …. How much do you remember?”

“Everything.” Junpei eased closer and lowered his voice. “Naoki’s a friend, and … his longtime companion fixed things so Kusunoki would have a friend. After Matsu ….”

“Got it. And that’s good.” Nodding toward the table where Harmonious and Hisoka were set up, he urged, “I’ll bring you a cup so you can help them drain the rest of his cask of star wine.”

Hisoka Araki turned their way and smiled, hand extended.

Junpei hurried over, murmuring a good evening and accepting a seat.

Harmonious blinked at him, then leaned closer. “Did you notice how strong she is? Authority in her bearing. She would lead well.”

At a loss, Junpei looked to Hisoka for a translation.

With a patient smile, Hisoka answered in simple Japanese. “Yes, yes. Anna is a fine woman. Anyone can see this.”

Harmonious narrowed his eyes, as if sorting through the words, then nodded. “Fine. Very fine. Very, very fine. Such a lady would bring honor to her pack.”

“Yes,” Hisoka calmly agreed. And to Junpei, “My old friend has always been fond of star wine.”

“Here, here,” Harmonious beckoned for Junpei’s cup.

“Oh! Umm.” Junpei turned toward the kitchen.

Paltry strode out and set a cup before Junpei before scolding, “You’ve gone past tipsy and straight to drunk, Harmonious. Leave some for the rest of us.”

“I share. Star wine is for sharing!” Harmonious frowned in concentration. “Do you think she would like a glass?”

“Anna isn’t here,” said Hisoka. “But you may fill Junpei’s cup.”

Harmonious took the sake bowl, only to gaze lovingly into its depths. “This is the exact color of her eyes.”

Paltry snorted.

Hisoka chuckled.

Junpei ventured, “You miss Anna-san?”

“Anna,” Harmonious breathed. “I want her to look my way.”

“You’re difficult to ignore,” said Paltry, pausing to translate for Junpei.

“But am I difficult to love?”

Hisoka’s gaze turned fond. “I have never found it so.”

Paltry leaned over and tousled Harmonious’ hair. “You’re certainly my second favorite pooch. Right after Laud.”

Harmonious blinked, then buried his face on his arms. “I’m being foolish.”

“Don’t dismiss love so lightly,” said Paltry.

Copper eyes peeped mournfully. “Is it love then?”

“Only you can say for certain,” Hisoka said smilingly.

“What do you think, Junpei?” asked Paltry. “Does this poor sot have any hope?”

Junpei guessed that was up to Anna, but he wasn’t sure it was his place to say.

Hisoka mildly said, “Junpei is in a similar circumstance. Don’t you recall the claim? He’s courting a Wendwood.”

Harmonious sat up straight. “Does he know?”

“He wants to know if you’re aware you’re courting a lady of the clans,” relayed Hisoka.

“Yes. Tanuki clan. She made sure I understood.”

“You’re in love?” Harmonious asked cautiously.

 People didn’t usually talk about this kind of stuff, but Junpei kind of wanted to laugh. “So are you,” he pointed out. “Is it really so rare?”

“I don’t see that rarity matters,” said Paltry. “Isn’t it enough that you found each other?”

Harmonious covered his face with both hands. “But … even if she …. Maker have mercy, I’m not sure I can lose another …!”

“Ah.” Paltry rubbed the back of his neck. “Life span.”

Hisoka filled in for Junpei. “He has loved and lost before.”

Junpei grabbed for Harmonious and fumbled for words. “Hoshina-dono … Harmonious-sama … sir! I understand. I mean, I don’t but … how do I explain?”

Harmonious tipped his head to the side and sniffed, as if Junpei’s scent made more sense than his words. “Say it your own way, lad. Hisoka will make things clear.”

“It’s about life span.” Junpei looked to Hisoka and Paltry first, wanting to be sure his message made it through. Then he shyly met Harmonious Starmark’s waiting gaze. “If you’re worried about keeping Anna, I think Chika could help.”

Tanuki Make Good Neighbors

“I have an enormous favor to ask.”

Anna automatically shifted into a receptive pose. “Is something amiss, Chika?”

“Oh, there’s mischief involved, and all of it’s mine. Can you come with me for a while?”

“How far? And for how long?” Anna indicated the door at her back. “I must stand guard while Opal sleeps.”

Chika dimpled. “I thought of that. Laud will do it.”

At her wave, one of the Starmark dogs stepped into view. The white-haired one who spoke little and carried at least seven concealed weapons. Not that she was counting.

“He volunteered,” Chika hurried on. “And your mentor won’t mind a bit. They’re old friends.”

Laud quietly promised, “Upon my word and the name of my clan, he will rest secure.”  

“That’s a Starmark for you!” Hooking Anna’s arm, Chika hurried her along the path toward the trees. “Now then, let’s have a lovely tramp along a pretty little lane that wends through a wood.”

Anna had no trouble keeping up with the light-footed tanuki. “Is the play on words intentional? Wending through woods. Wendwood.”

“Tanuki do love to play, and words are fair game. Which brings me to our purposes today.” Chika opened a gate that sang with stones and sigilcraft, gesturing for Anna to precede her. “There’s an old tanuki tradition, and I’ve decided to embrace it. Starting today.”

The entrance was very near the garden behind The House of the Noble Chrysanthemum. Surely this bamboo-lined lane belonged to the Wendwood clan. Lush and green, with just enough room for two to walk side-by-side, Anna could hear nothing of the busy neighborhood they left behind. No doubt the clan employed many wards and barriers to protect this sanctuary.

“Lovely, isn’t it?” Chika inquired.

“Completely.” Still, Anna couldn’t completely relax. “Why are we here?”

“Straight to business. I approve.” And with a twirl of her parasol, she announced, “In human terms, I want you to help me elope!”

Anna listened with growing mystification. “Is that not hasty?”

“Oooh, not really. We’re a small community. Most of us have already sorted out our preferred partners from among our playmates. But the real fun is keeping everything a secret. A pair chooses two trusted friends to act as witnesses. Vows are exchanged in a place like this, over the course of a set number of days. In our case, four.”

“Only four?” Anna felt a little silly, repeating, “Is that not … hasty?”

“It’s symbolic,” Chika countered. “Four promises for four seasons, for my gentleman artist is enamored of the Junzi. He has flattered me with flowers, and I am well pleased. Now, he’ll claim me with kisses.”

“And all I have to do is watch?”

Chika’s eyes sparkled, “And hunt Junpei down if he gets cold feet.”

Anna chuckled. “My tracking skills are up to the task.”

“Then we’re all set. They’re waiting just around the next bend.”

Only then did Anna wonder who Junpei had chosen as his witness. “Who …?”

Chicka interrupted with a laugh. “Which of them looks more nervous to you?”

No response was needed, for Junpei stood straight and serene, gazing up through the shifting bamboo leaves with a half-smile on his face. By contrast, his companion paced and pulled at his hair, fiddled with his sleeves, and muttered to himself.

Harmonious Starmark.

“He does not know we are here?” Anna whispered.

Chika murmured, “I couldn’t resist a peek.”

With a snap of her fingers, whatever illusion that had covered their approach vanished, and Harmonious started violently. But he rallied enough to smile and shuffle forward to greet her with an almost reverent, “Anna.”  

Claim Me with Kisses

Junpei joined Chika on a bench set into a bow in the lane. She offered a hand, and he took it in both of his. Curious, he asked, “Did you tell him what he needed to know?”

“I did. And better yet, we’ll demonstrate.”

He glanced toward Harmonious and Anna, who stood a little ways off. “They’re going to be watching?”

“They’re our witnesses,” Chika pointed out.

Junpei hummed uncertainly. “I don’t think it’s going well. They’re not even talking.”

Harmonious started guiltily and glanced at the stoic woman at his side.

“Did he hear me?” Junpei whispered.

“Many a keen ear in the clans.” Chika glibly asked, “Didn’t you give him any advice?”

“Well, no. I mean … I don’t know his language.”

“He is learning ours quickly. Otherwise, how would he know to be sheepish?”

Junpei darted another look at Harmonious. “I don’t think he needs help. Just courage.”

“Anna is a formidable woman. But I believe that is part of her appeal.” Chika took a sing-song tone. “Catch if catch can, good sir. The trail is before you, and it may yet lead to a good den.”

Across the way, Harmonious shuffled his feet, dipped his head, and turned toward Anna.

“Now!” murmured Chika. “Do you plan to speak only of them? Or shall we seek our own happiness?”

Junpei smiled crookedly. “I only wanted to be sure your plan was working.”

“It’s all up to him now. No more meddling.” Scooting a little closer, she searched his face. “Shall we look to our own bond?”

“Yes. What do I need to do? Or … say?”

“Promise to love me?”

That inspired a straighter smile. “I cannot even imagine stopping.”

“An attitude I shall encourage by all my wiles.” More seriously, Chika said, “Let’s share all our days?”

“Through every season,” he agreed.

“Ah, yes. That was to be our theme. My gentleman for all seasons.” Her hand came up to caress his cheek. “Trust your future to me. This will be pleasant for both of us. Even pleasurable, once we can continue in privacy. But for now, just a taste.”

Junpei’s heart beat harder, and his face heated. “I don’t know what to do.”

“We’re going to begin a bond that will link your life to mine.” Chika’s calm was soothing. “Over time, we’ll tend it, and as you and I gain from it, time will fade in importance, though not in beauty.”

“All right. Yes, please.”

“There’s nothing to fear. It’s simple, really.” She scooted a little closer. “I’ll guide you.”

“My life is in your hands.”

“And mine in yours.” She drew him down until their foreheads touched. “My people call this tending. It’s a kind of give and take. Close your eyes and find me.”

Which wasn’t much to go on, but it turned out to be all Junpei needed.

Chika bloomed across his senses like paint across paper, bringing new color and beauty, inspiring awe and eagerness. She made him want to linger here, just like this, basking in the swirl of new sensations. But she also made him want to reach for his brushes. To capture this moment in some tangible way. Already, he was imagining the palette he would need, the way light and dark would mingle and blend.

“What are you imagining?” she whispered. “Because I like how it feels.”

Junpei hummed. “I think that if I am your gentleman artist, then you must be my muse.”

Chika giggled. Then teased him with whispery little kisses until he groaned.

When he tugged her snug against him and pressed more firmly, she went pliant and pulled him in, and Junpei no longer needed guiding. He was right where he’d always belonged.

He Finds Her Decisive

“You can hear them?” Anna quizzed.

“Ah. Yes. Of course. But my grasp of the language isn’t what it needs to be.”

She scrutinized Harmonious, then looked at the hand-holding couple across the way. “Why did they choose witnesses who cannot speak their language?”

“Do we need an exact translation? They’re certainly taken with each other. That’s clear enough by posture and … ah, tone.”

Anna wasn’t sure why Harmonious radiated so much awkwardness. “Sometimes, posture and tone are at odds. Or confusing.”

“Oh?”

“Yours, for example.” Anna searched his face. “Quen did say matchmakers made you uncomfortable. Do you not approve?”

Harmonious gaped. “I want nothing but Junpei’s happiness! Miss Wendwood is his choice, just as he is hers! As to the matter of matchmakers …. Quen was referring to my father, who repeatedly encouraged me to take a new bondmate. It was wearying. I left.”

“If you prefer to remain alone, that is your right.”

“No!” Harmonious looked even more discombobulated. “I mean, yes. But that’s not it at all!”

“I was there when you said you did not wish to forget the one you loved.” She couldn’t help but feel they were talking in circles. “Were you not referring to your bondmate?”

“Aurora. Yes. She is dear to me, still.” He rubbed at the side of his face. “This is going poorly.”

Anna looked across the way. “I disagree. Everything seems amicable, over there. Although, I am not certain how closely I am meant to watch.”

“Our duty as conspirators is to pay close enough attention to confirm the stages of their courtship while affording them as much privacy as is polite.”

“So vague.”

“Please.” Harmonious held up his hands and begged, “May I begin again?”

She hadn’t realized he was attempting to start something. “They seem in no hurry.”

“Anna,” was as far as he got for several moments. “Anna, I’m not opposed to taking a new bondmate. But she’d have to be my choice. Mine.”

“I understand your aversion to being coerced.”

He winced. “Which is why I have been reluctant to press the matter.”

If she was supposed to know what he was referring to, he was mistaken. But she had nowhere else to be. He’d probably get around to a point eventually.

Harmonious sighed and took a cautious posture, as if he didn’t want to offend. “When I asked about their match, I was referring to a human accepting an Amaranthine partner.”

“I have never heard of it before. Well, not outside of ballads.”

“Would you ever consider such a match?”

“It would depend entirely upon who ….” She caught on then and frowned.

Harmonious nodded. “If it was me?”

“I am hardly a sensible choice.”

He looked utterly baffled. “Isn’t that for me to decide?”

Anna reviewed their acquaintance, and her consternation grew. Friendly overtures. Hopeful postures. Attentiveness. Is this what Quen had meant about his Da’s smile? Blades and blows, no wonder Opal had been silently laughing at her.

And suddenly, her mentor’s words came back to her. You did not rebuff the old dog. And something more. “Opal said you’d been bond-building.”

“He was correct. I’m not sure what I was thinking at that moment, but … I accept any blame you wish to lay.” Harmonious lowered his gaze. “The tending rather went to my head.”

She knew when he meant. During battle. “But I initiated.”

“Your trust pleased me. And when the tides turned, you were glorious.” Admiration shone in his eyes.

“It was all backward,” she recalled. “Your strength flowing into me.”

“You … you felt that?”

Silly question. She waved it off. “It went to my head as well. I was able to draw on your power, then channel it through the Blaze.”

His expression clouded. “You remember that part, too?”

“I would hardly forget.”

“But … they have. My clan. Our allies. What’s left of the Miyabe family. They only have the vaguest sense of what happened that night.”

“Why?” Anna shook her head. “It cannot have been dragon sway. We routed them.”

“We did.” And more softly, pleadingly, he added, “We make a good team.”

“Even so, I am a poor choice.”

Harmonious firmly said, “That’s for me to decide. You must decide if I have the makings of a good bondmate.”

Anna snorted. “Your entire clan is a testament to that.”

He hung his head and groaned. “My dear, I am not speaking in generalities.”

Head on then.

“You were right. This is going poorly.” Anna preferred direct orders, a clear objective. “May I pose some questions?”

Harmonious swiftly took a receptive posture.

“I am your choice?”

“Yes.”

“Based on …?”

“Love.”

Anna’s eyebrows lifted. “Is that not rather hasty?”

“Quite sudden,” he cheerfully agreed. “You took me entirely by surprise.”

“And having chosen in haste, you wish to marry in haste?” She gestured toward Junpei and Chika. “To elope?”

“I’d leap at the chance,” he admitted. “But I can be patient. I’m willing to court your favor, especially since … I seem to have been beneath your notice.”

“Hardly. You’ve been looming large since our introduction.”

His shoulders squared, but his smile didn’t lose its self-deprecating twist.

She posed her next question. “Why a human?”

“Because … you’re human …?”

“And as ephemeral as nippets in the eyes of an ancient.”

“I am … old … ish.” He looked abashed. “You find my years off-putting?”

Anna chided herself for being too vague. Clarity was needed. The more direct she was, the better. “In a matter of decades, I will die. Sooner, if the tide of some future battle turns against me.”

Harmonious smiled a little. “You’d refuse me because you don’t want me to be sad?”

Grimly going back to her first point, she repeated, “I am hardly a sensible choice.”

“Look. There, now. They’ve begun.” He nodded toward the bench. “Can you tell from here?”

The couple were as close as they could be without Chika piling onto Junpei’s lap, and their foreheads were touching. Chika’s happiness was palpable, and Junpei exuded so much serenity. “Is tending a part of tanuki courtship?”

There was a gruff edge to Harmonious’ undertone. “Chika is tending Junpei.”

“He is the reaver,” Anna pointed out. “He must be tending her.”

“Those who take can give, or so Miss Wendwood tells me. And by cultivating a mutual bond, an Amaranthine is able to share their years with their human partner.”

“Is that really possible?”

“Granted, it’s not widely known or even discussed in this part of the world, but I don’t think she was teasing when she shared the secret with me. So that I could share it with you.”

They were kissing now. Anna lowered her gaze.

Harmonious cleared his throat. “She may have also offered to … reciprocate. Should you be favorably inclined.”

“I dearly wish you would stop trying to put things so delicately.”

He blinked. “Having seen the … ah … force of your rebuffs firsthand, I have no wish to incur one.”

Anna may have smiled.

Harmonious may have brightened. “If my pursuit pleases you, here are two witnesses. Junpei and Chika would watch over our beginnings, even as we watch over theirs.”

“How convenient.”

“For once, I do not mind the meddling.” Harmonious gestured between them and asked, “Share my years?”

“You would invite danger into your den?” Anna reminded, “I have made enemies.”

“Without hesitation. And my pledge remains, even if you have no wish to lead my clan.”

That gave her pause. “When you say lead …?”

“You would be Lady Starmark.”

Anna prided herself on being decisive. She struck an authoritative pose. “They need three more days like this one?”

“That’s how it was explained to me.”

“Then you have three more days in which to persuade me.”

Harmonious rubbed at his jaw with a shaky hand. “What form of persuasion …?”

“I leave that to you. But be warned, these interludes are brief. And my patience for niceties is severely limited.” She nodded toward the beaming couple. “See? They are already finished.”

“Then … it is our turn?” Harmonious asked, his gaze on Chika.

She fluttered her fingers at them, then whispered to Junpei, who looked relieved.

Harmonious ventured, “Three more days … and today?”

Anna tilted her chin challengingly. “If our negotiations thus far did not satisfy you.”

“Maker bless, that was almost a yes.” And more formally, “Before these witnesses, I will say it plainly. You are my choice. And … I would like very much to try tending you, again. Since words are failing me, let my heart speak?”

A reasonable tactic.

Perhaps even wise.

“Is that how it works?” she asked.

Harmonious eased closer. “May I touch?”

She eyed him warily. “Within reason.”

All he did was offer his palms. She covered them, and he carefully moved his hands into a supporting position. “This should do.” And closing his eyes, he murmured, “Whenever you are ready.”

Interest piqued, Anna lifted her chin, shut her eyes, and welcomed Harmonious into the sort of communion that fostered tending. Such an exchange was always honest. Her trust for Opulence Windlore was largely due to the person he revealed himself to be during tending. Anna was only giving Harmonious the same opportunity.

But it wasn’t even remotely similar.

Because Opal’s affections were so aloof as to be grandfatherly, for his heart belonged to another, brighter soul than hers. But Harmonious was carefully holding back a vast storehouse of pent-up feelings. Yearning and protectiveness and hope and attraction. And the fear that he would be too much for her.

“Are you underestimating me, again?” she inquired.

He huffed, and his strength washed over her, then—warm and worried. It was too much a part of his nature for him to do otherwise. An inclination toward peace. Honesty in every dealing. Respect for humankind.

Little by little, he surrendered more to her, and she took everything. Far too soon, he was easing back, and she clung to him, wanting more. He had to know it, too. Well, she wouldn’t be ashamed. It had been good.

“Do you understand?” he softly begged.

Oh, she did.

That he was boundless.

And she was beloved.

Both truths were daunting in their way, but Anna would face them like the battler she was. Searching his gaze, she found it impossible to withhold an answer that was more than almost. “Yes.”

Let Me Go Deep

“You are bonded to Chika?” Kusunoki asked.

“Yes. Everything’s settled. Mother adores her, and Sho doesn’t mind. Neighbors think we’re living with her parents until I can set us up in a house. But there’s a cluster of thatched huts at the end of a secret lane, and one of them is ours now.”

“The tanuki hideaway? Mmm… I know it.” His fingers tightened around Junpei’s hand. “You are close by.”

“Close enough for you to reach? Naoki said that was important.”

Kusunoki looked away. “I do not think it matters.”

Junpei was seriously concerned for his friend, who was apparently this tree. “Has something changed? I know the dragons twisted all around your limbs. Were you damaged?”

“I am glad you remember. Nobody else does. The children do not even pray to me anymore, without Matsu to remind them.”

“Hajime did say that people would forget. Was that the right choice?”

“For his safety and for Naoki’s … yes. They do not like dragons. This place has become their hideaway.”

“It’s good, isn’t it? Having them close.”

“If they left, I would be even more alone. But they are each other’s, and no one is mine.”

Junpei had suspected as much. “I won’t do?”

“I did try.”

“What about Matsu’s children? Could you befriend one of them?”

Kusunoki took his time answering. “I could. I have done it before. Every few generations, one of the Miyabe children would find me, and it would be almost enough. Why does it always have to end?”

“Human lives are short compared to a tree’s. But … there may be a way. With the right sort of bond.” Junpei tapped his chest. “Like mine with Chika.”

“Mmm.”

“Or what if you found someone who already shares a tree’s years? An Amaranthine partner?”

Kusunoki wearily shook his head.

“What can I do?” Junpei brought his other hand up in the supportive gesture he’d learned.

Slowly, sadly, Kusunoki said, “Bring Father. And Naoki.”

Junpei returned to Kusunoki’s side, keeping his promise even though Kusunoki clearly needed more than he was able to offer. Naoki caught up, pulling Hajime along behind him. The breeze scattered red petals onto the pavers, reminding Junpei that Kusunoki’s branches had been bare of flowers since Matsu’s death.

Naoki asked questions, sounding very like a doctor.

Hajime’s gaze darted from one face to the next, looking as if he might have something to say … but didn’t want to say it.

“I am so tired of this,” Kusunoki complained. “So tired.”

Naoki looked close to tears when he turned to Hajime. “What recourse do we have?”

With a sigh, Hajime crouched before his son and offered a hand. “Sleep, leafling. You should be able to do it. I think you have already begun. Go deep for a time. Sleep like a stone.”

“What if …?” Kusunoki’s protest trailed off uncertainly.

Naoki said, “We’ll stay in the area. Watch over you when we can.”

“And I’m near,” offered Junpei. “I’ll visit. And watch for your return.”

Kusunoki’s gaze turned inward. “I think I can. Mmm… I will.”

He vanished without saying goodbye. But Junpei guessed that in the long run, it wasn’t.

Under the Camphor Tree

Anna allowed the daughters of the Starmark clan to array her for the bonding ceremony. Chika had encouraged it, much as she’d urged Anna to adhere to a lengthy canine courtship. All the phases and gifts had allowed Harmonious’ family to participate in welcoming a new Lady Starmark into their den.

Personally, Anna thought Chika was being hypocritical. The tanuki had merrily eloped, with her kin none the wiser.

Anna’s four days as a witness—and Harmonious’ attendant persuasion—had served as a sort of betrothal. He’d kept his pledges simple and his tending sessions brief. After consulting with Chika, Anna had negotiated a few terms.

He brought her a star-etched comb and told her the story of his clan.

She demanded the right to defend his clan whenever a threat arose.

He commissioned Junpei to paint the screens in the pavilion they’d share.

She asked that Opulence Windlore sing a blessing over their bonding.

He presented a map showing his lands … and the portion allotted for an orphanage.

She requested measures to put off pregnancy, since Chika warned of complications.

Although she thought it pained him, Harmonious agreed. It was for her protection, in the end, and he respected her wishes in every regard.

And so, twelve moons later, Reaver Anna Green, arrayed in Starmark colors, stood under Kikusawa Shrine’s sacred tree, ready for a final exchange of vows.

“Is this a camphor tree?” she asked, for her Japanese was vastly improved.

Junpei looked up from where he was painting a delicate chrysanthemum upon the new flagstones. So many had to be replaced after last year’s attack. Little by little, the evidence was disappearing.

“This is Kusunoki,” he answered.

“I know,” she said slowly. “I had not realized you remembered.”

Junpei sat upon the ground, slowly twirling the paintbrush between his fingers. “Chika has forgotten, but I didn’t. Kusunoki and I shared a promise. Maybe that mattered.”

“Harmonious and I remember everything.”

“Good. It’s less lonely, that way.” His gaze turned thoughtful. “You flew pretty far, that night. The air’s probably really clear from way up high.”

“Has Chika never taken you flying?”

Junpei shook his head. “I’ll have to ask. Might be fun. But this needs finishing first.”

“Are chrysanthemums your signature?”

“Not really, no. But they suit you. And Kusunoki didn’t bloom this year. So … consider this a gift from the two of us. Congratulations on your bonding, Saint Midori. You are sure to be a tribute to your den.”

And because she’d since learned the traditional response to such compliments, the soon-to-be Lady Starmark used it to thank him. “For now and for ever.”  

THE END

never more than

FORTHRIGHT

a teller of tales who began as a fandom ficcer. (Which basically means that no one in RL knows about her anime habit, her manga collection, or her penchant for serial storytelling.) Kinda sorta almost famous for gently-paced, WAFFy adventures that might inadvertently overturn your OTP, forthy will forever adore drabble challenges, surprise fanart, and twinkles (which are rumored to keep well in jars). As always... be nice, play fair, have fun! ::twinkle::

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Amaranthine Saga

Tsumiko and the Enslaved Fox

Kimiko and the Accidental Proposal

Tamiko and the Two Janitors

Mikoto and the Reaver Village
Fumiko and the Finicky Nestmate

Pimiko and the Uncharted Island

Songs of the Amaranthine

Marked by Stars

Followed by Thunder

Dragged through Hedgerows

Governed by Whimsy

Hemmed in Silver

Captured on Film

Bathed in Moonlight

Flattered by Flowers

Amaranthine Interludes

Lord Mettlebright’s Man

Patreon Exclusives

Bard & Barbarian

Kimiko and the Cycle of Moons