Page 45 of Yumi and the Nightmare Painter

“Not surprising,” Akane said. “It’s just a game Izzy plays.”

“It’snota game,” Izzy replied.

“She thinks,” Akane said, “that she can predict people’s fortunes using episode guides for hion-line programs.”

“It’s an ancient art,” Izzy said.

“You made it up!” Tojin said, pointing.

“I made it up a long time ago,” Izzy said. “During a previous life. So it’s ancient. Do you want to see the dramascope that explains it? Here, let me show you.”

She grinned as Tojin rolled his eyes. Painter never had been able to figure out how serious she was about her crazy ideas. In moments like this—smiling as if she’d gone too far on purpose—he was left uncertain.

Standing there though…listening to Tojin joke while Masaka drew and Izzy rambled on about something incredibly random…he felt a painful nostalgia. For something he’d lost, like a misplaced note you keep remembering you wrote something important on, but you can never quite recall what pocket you left it in.

Theseweren’this friends anymore. This feeling he felt? It was false. He turned to go as the food arrived, brought by one of Design’s assistants. Two bowls for Tojin—no noodles, just extra eggs and pork—and a small one for Masaka.

There was nothing for Painter here. Why had he yearned so long to come back to this?

He walked off. Yumi gave him a panicked look as he did, but she was the one who had wanted to come down here and talk to this crew. She could do it without him. He wanted to be as far away as he could get—well, as far away as he could get without being yanked every time Yumi shifted. He made it to the bar, where he settled on an empty stool, facing away from the group.

Yumi joined him a few minutes later. “They said,” she told him softly, “I should come up here to order? Which means…tell them what food I want, right?”

He nodded.

“Is there a specific dish I’m supposed to have?” she asked.

“You pick any you want,” he said.

She drew in a breath, appearing nervous about that idea.

“Get a small mild pork with salt,” he said. “No add-ons. My guess, from what I’ve been fed in your world, is that you’d like something with a more…non-complex taste.”

“Thank you,” she said, then held up a sheet of paper. “Um…Masaka gave me this…”

It was a picture of a rabbit drawn with deep, cavernous holes for eyes and a stare that seemed like it wanted to swallow the world. Text underneath said, “Yumi reminds me of a cute bunny.”

“Oh dear,” Painter said (lowly).

“What?” Yumi asked, her voice rising.

“She likes you.”

“Is that bad?”

“Never can tell with Masaka,” he replied.

Yumi settled down on the stool next to his. “You were right,” she said softly. “I shouldn’t have come here. I don’t…know how to be a person, Painter.”

“Well, maybeIwas wrong. Because you need practice.”

“No,” she said. “I don’t need practice to become something I shouldn’t. I’mnota person, Painter.”

He frowned, looking toward her. “Of course you’re a person, Yumi.”

“No, I’m a concept,” she said. “A thing, owned by society. I would be better as a machine, like that box that shows stories in your room. If I didn’t think, if I didn’t feel, I’d do my job far better.” She gazed downward, concentrating on the counter. “The nibbles at freedom I had today are dangerous, Painter. They taste of things Ishouldn’twant. If I let them control me, then what? I still have to go back. Take up my duties again. Do you think maybe the spirits sent me here to warn me? Or maybe…to test me?”

“No,” Painter said. “I think they sent you here as a reward, Yumi. So that youcouldtaste these things. Enjoy them, for once in your life.”

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