Page 61 of Yumi and the Nightmare Painter

He didn’t reply, so she moved a few stacks of painted bamboo and went about her morning routine. Once showered, combed, dressed, and the rest, she sat down with her ink and brush.

“I am ready for instruction, Master Teacher,” she said, bowing deeply.

“Do you call me that,” he asked, “because it annoys me?”

“Yes,” she said, bowing again.

“Youadmitit?”

“Whyelsewould I call you names you dislike?” she said. “I mean, I thought it was obvious.”

He waved his hands and sat on his altar. “Isn’t annoying people against the…spiritual girl code or something?”

“Your world,” she said, raising her chin, “your rules. And from what I’ve seen, Painter, annoying people is basically areligionto you.”

Shedidfeel mischievous saying such things to him, and it would have been proper for her to stop. But…why was he so amusing to tease? If he’d bowed his head, she would likely have felt guilty. Instead he raised his hands toward the heavens and shook his head dramatically.

“I,” he said, “don’t understand you atall.”

“I am your humble student,” she said, bowing once more, “in the fine art of painting.”

“I suppose.”

“And in the finer art of being aggravating.”

This time he smiled. Which worried her. Despite her intentions, she was relaxing too much here, wasn’t she? What else could she do? She needed to enjoy this less.

Focus on the work,she thought, picking up a brush. “What is my next lesson?”

“Bamboo,” he said.

Yumi turned to look around the room, which was stacked with sheets of painted bamboo. They’d had to go to the supply storethree timesduring the week. She felt she should clean the quarters, as she was severely adding to the clutter. Maybe she could have Painter ask Chaeyung and Hwanji for tips next time in her world. Cleaning up after herself was novel.

No. Don’t enjoy it. And it’s not right to talk to your attendants. You shouldn’t even think of that.

“I have mastered bamboo,” she said. “Yesterday I taught you something new. In return, you should also teach me an advanced technique.”

“There’s no reason for that,” Painter said. “You just need the basics to defend yourself in case of a nightmare encounter.”

“I can defeat this stable nightmare with…bamboo?”

“No,” he said. “Once again, you’renotgoing to face the stable nightmare. If we encounter it, we’re going torun.”

She sighed but bowed, this time sincere. She needed to listen to his wisdom—well, his experience—in this matter. So she launched into more painting. Until a knock at the door drew her away. A glance at the clock told her it was late in the day—at least as this society measured it. Although Yumi and he always rose at morning in her world, Painter kept a strange schedule in his world, working when many others slept.

It was dinnertime. Or breakfast, for the painters. The other painters generally met before or after shift to chat, and Yumi often had to turn down Akane’s invitations to those gatherings.

She pulled open the door, prepared with another excuse for Akane. Instead theentiregroup was standing out there. Not only Akane—who was stylish even in the trousers and painting shirt she wore on duty. But also Tojin, with sleeves rolled up to show his muscles. Short Masaka, with a turtleneck, her glaring eyes shadowed and lined with excessive amounts of dark makeup. Finally Izzy, the long-limbed girl with the bleached yellow hair.

“This,” Tojin said, “is an intervention!”

“We’re here to rescue you from your books, Yumi,” Izzy said, grabbing her by the hand.

“I don’t need—” Yumi began.

“We’ve all been there,” Akane said, “studying for the tests. Yumi, trust me. If you don’t relax now and then, you’re going to stress yourself to the point that your mind rots. Youneeda break.”

“Gotta rest the muscles between reps,” Tojin said.

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