Page 39 of Yumi and the Nightmare Painter

“Yes?” Yumi said, shrinking down in her—his—clothing.

Painter groaned as he saw his chances with Akane fading even further. (Which proved him to be an optimist, since he assumed he’d ever had chances in the first place.)

“Quick!” he said. “Let’s go.”

“Thank you and excuse me,” Yumi said, with a quick bow, then slipped past Akane into the building.

Akane lingered, holding the door. Before Yumi and Painter could reach the stairs, she rushed in after them and caught up to Yumi.

“Hey,” Akane said, “this is probably none of my business, so tell me to go stick my head in the shroud if you want. But…are you all right, Yumi? Could you maybe use some help? Someone to take you shopping for some new clothes?”

Painter sighed. Akane was always—

Yumi, shockingly,burst into tears. “Yes,” she said between sobs. “Oh, yes,please.”

Yumi, of course,instantly felt mortified at her breakdown. She tried to control her tears as she took Akane by the hand and bowed to her in thanks.

Surprisingly, it wasn’t against the rules for a yoki-hijo to cry. Many of these rules had been instituted by older yoki-hijo themselves, after all—and so they’d made cryingin front of othersthe thing that was against protocol.

I find it telling. They all understood. For one living the life of a yoki-hijo, breakdowns were basically inevitable. You just had to hide them as best you could.

Regardless, Yumi knew she shouldn’t act this way. It was just such areliefto have someone pay attention to her needs. Akane’s attempt to help, albeit in a small way, was physically overwhelming.

This place was just sostrange. That sky felt like it would swallow her, but that was somehow the least of it. She’d seen enormous vehicles—carrying tons of people—moving through the nearby streets. These buildings towered around her, stacks of stones piled so straight, gluedtogether. They could have been mountains. And then there were those twin lines of light glowing and hovering in the air above every street, connected to every building, forming garish glowing signs.

She’d been dumped into all of this without any direction. She felt lost, even when she knew where she was. She felt terrified even though she wasn’t in danger. Worst, she’d had to go out wearing…wearing thismess.

Akane patted her hand as if troubled. Nearby, Painter stared at her, frowning. He seemed baffled. Well, Yumi understood both of their emotions.

“Right, then,” Akane said, towing Yumi out the door. “I know a place.” Her shoes made a sharp clopping sound on the strange black-stone street. It didn’t sound like a pair of clogs, but it was comforting nonetheless.

Yumi seized her emotions in a death grip and wrangled them under control. As soon as her tears stopped, however, she found she was still humiliated—not merely because of her outburst, but because of what had happened the last time she’d met this woman.

“Akane,” she said. “Last time we spoke…I embarrassed myself by exposing, flagrantly, my ignorance. Please accept not just my apologies, but my sincere remunerations—anything I can do in your favor, I will extend.”

“It’s not your fault your brother is a creep, Yumi.”

“He’s not a creep!” Yumi said quickly. Then paused. Was that a lie? She wasn’t completely certain. “In truth, I misunderstood what he was saying. He was speaking of…of the dramas he likes to watch. Not of anyone he knows. In addition, I was overwhelmed. People in the city are…different from the way people are back home.”

“I’ve heard about the smaller towns,” Akane said with a laugh. “I know things are more traditional there. We must look a sight to you!”

“It’s more the city itself,” Yumi said, staring to the right as they crossed a road. “The streets seem to go onforever. So many people all in one place, building monoliths toward a dark sky. Living atop one another, piled like stones in a wall…”

Akane smiled.

“Did I say something wrong?” Yumi asked, lowering her eyes. “I gravely apologize for my foolishness.”

“You’re not foolish,” Akane said. “Actually, I was thinking that I like the way you talk. It has a kind of…poetic feel to it.”

Poetic? She was merely speaking with proper formality. Still, it would not be polite to correct Akane, so she held her tongue. Akane led her to a large structure with bigger windows and brighter lights than many. Yumi glanced over her shoulder toward Painter, who was following along behind, hands in his pockets. He didn’t seem to want to talk, but she made sure to linger at the door so he could follow her.

Then all her attention was captured by the place inside those doors: a vast open room full of displays and statues wearing clothing. Hundreds of skirts hanging in artfully arranged racks. Shirts piled high in cubbies on the walls. Shoes in a thousand different varieties, raised up on tables to show them off.

“So,” Akane said, “you’ll need at least a couple of outfits. Three, maybe? That could keep you going until you can send for something from home.”

Yumi simply stared. Bright lights presented it all, of a whiter light than the lines outside. Dozens of people moved among the racks, chatting, pointing at different options. Was this…thisalljust here for people totake?

“What do you like to wear?” Akane said gently, nudging her. “Yumi?”

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