Page 23 of Kimiko and the Accidental Proposal
“Never do.” Akira sort of wished he’d inherited some little part of his sister’s amazing abilities. Tsumiko’s reaver ratings were top-level, but he didn’t have the sort of soul that pulled at Amaranthine. “Is it safe?”
“For you, certainly.” The phoenix cocked his head, eyeing their door with obvious incredulity. “You and I may be the only ones who can safely pass through.”
The door opened for them, and Juuyu spared a glance for the empty hall. “Were you expecting to entertain often?”
“Maybe,” said Akira.
At the same time Suuzu said, “No.”
“Okay, no.” Akira shuffled inside, rubbing wearily at his damp hair. “If we want to hang out with anyone, we’ll go down to the student center or meet up somewhere else.”
Juuyu startled him by bending low enough to look him in the eye. “Thank you for the concessions you make for our comfort.”
“It’s no big deal.”
“No?” Juuyu cut a sly look in his younger brother’s direction. “If you give in to him every time, you may learn to resent a phoenix’s preferences. And he will never learn to appreciate what can only be found by leaving one’s nest.”
“Yeah, we know.” He and Suuzu had talked about it lots of times, and both of them had pushed past plenty of comfort zones already.
Juuyu’s hum managed to sound skeptical, and Suuzu trilled a sulky retort as he pulled bedding from the closet. Akira tried to help, but as usual, his best friend came along right after him—smoothing, tucking, correcting. Which seemed a little silly since all they were going to do was mess it up the minute they laid down. But this sort of thing was important to Suuzu, and that was important to Akira.
“Into the nest, my chicks.”
Juuyu’s tone was taunting, but Akira liked that about him. Most Amaranthine worked so hard to not-scare the average human that they went out of their way to be nice and polite and passive. Not that Akira was against diplomacy. He was just more comfortable with people who were willing to get comfortable.
He sank to his knees on the bed, head bowed to accept the daily inevitability of preening. Back when they’d first met, he’d been embarrassed by the phoenix’s touch. But they’d worked through stuff like boundaries and the appropriate time and place. This kind of thing was actually really nice. Relaxing. Soothing. And sort of revealing, because Akira could often catch a little of Suuzu’s mood while he fussed. He could also tell when the one fussingwasn’tSuuzu.
“Wrong brother,” he mumbled.
“My nest, my prerogative.” Juuyu worked his fingers through Akira’s short hair. “Come closer, Suuzu. I can deal with two chicks at once.”
Akira felt his friend settle at his side. Turning his head, he caught Suuzu’s eye and smiled. Juuyu was subjecting them to a simultaneous preening, the very same sifting and kneading that Akira had found so flustering when he was fourteen. Now, it felt like family.
“You should let your hair grow,” Juuyu murmured.
Suuzu chirped a crisp negative.
His brother chuckled. “A shocking rebellion. However, I cannot deny that you fit in better among humans with your hair shortened.”
“Don’t you work with humans?” asked Akira.
“Reavers,” clarified Juuyu. “And they don’t look twice at my plumage. If they notice me at all.”
“Because you’re a stealthy super-spy?”
Juuyu made a sound that was new, so Akira didn’t know how to interpret it. “Because my partner shines as you do, Akira. I yield to his greater enthusiasm for social interaction.”
“Is your partner here in Keishi? Will we get to meet him?”
“Perhaps.” Juuyu gave their heads a final caress. “More importantly, bedtime story or lullaby?”
Not the sort of question you’d expect from a person like Juuyu. But by moonlight or candlelight, the phoenix’s sharp gaze mellowed along with his voice. This was a lilting, lulling time of day, when those closest were drawn closer, and secrets were safely shared.
Full-grown Amaranthine didn’t need sleep in the same way as humans. They could go for weeks without, then crash for days on end. On balmy nights in the Farroost colony, Akira had fought his own weariness in order to experience what young phoenixes took for granted. They fell asleep to a mother’s twittering lullabies or an uncle’s wild story. There among the trees, under stars that seemed to pulse with every note and blush in rainbow hues, the colony fluted their piercingly beautiful songs.
“Why just one?” Akira flopped gratefully onto his pillow. “I vote for both.”
“Hmm. There are things I need to say. To both of you.” Juuyu motioned for his brother to lie back. “Suuzu, the elders have decided to accept your choice. In essence, you may keep Akira, with the Farroost clan’s blessing.”
