Page 30 of Kimiko and the Accidental Proposal
Suuzu inclined his head. “A city-wide street festival to celebrate a local saint.”
“Saint Midori of the Heavenly Lights,” said Akira. “She’s supposed to have saved the city.”
“How?” prompted Kimiko.
“By calling down the stars or something.” Akira waved his hands around. “Everyone knows the song that goes with the bonfire dance. She came like an angel, and all that.”
“Except Midori wasn’t an angel,” said Kimiko. “She was a reaver. More specifically, a beacon. And it’s said that her radiance woke the stars, who flew to her aid.Impressions.”
“Your story is ancient if there are imps at play,” said Suuzu. “They were lost before the rise of the Kindred.”
“Far from ancient,” Kimiko said eagerly. “This story’s only three-hundred years old, give or take, which means there may still be imps in the world.”
Suuzu only hummed.
Kimiko said, “The Star Festival may be the only festival that’s celebrated by humansandreavers.”
“What do the Amaranthine have to say about it?” asked Akira.
She puffed out her cheeks. “Nothing. My grandfather once tried to get Harmonious Starmark to clarify some of the details. I mean, there’s ahoundin the story, and that hints at his clan’s involvement. But Harmonious only said that he’s always liked that story, then changed the subject. Grandfather was convinced he knows more—probably everything—but it’s a big secret for some reason.”
Akira held up a finger. “Hang on. If the legend actually happened, and Saint Midori was a reaver, what did she save the cityfrom?”
Kimiko’s smile widened. “Humans usually say it was a falling star. Although some think it was an earthquake, or even a volcanic eruption. But every record at Kikusawa is very clear on that point. Our city was under attack.”
“From …?” demanded Akira.
“From those who are still depicted, cringing and cowering at the foot of Kikusawa and Kusunoki.” Kimiko was delighted by how quickly they caught on.
“Oh, man. You’rekidding, right?” Akira asked wonderingly.
Suuzu filled in the blank. “From dragons.”
FIFTEEN
Brave Face
All week long, Tenma held himself firmly in check. Watch and see—that was the way to get by. He would go with the flow, giving himself time to grow accustomed to the stranger parts of school life at New Saga. Quen was very kind, if in a distracted way. For all the importance of his connections, the young Starmark wasn’t very … industrious. It was already clear that they were counting on Isla to carry the group.
The girl was so poised. And unfailingly polite. Maybe he should be more embarrassed to be tutored by a girl of twelve, but she’d been quite happy to start him at square one. Her lunchtime lectures were easily his favorite part of the day.
He was getting by. And yet he was disappointed. And maybe that was unreasonable. What had he expected?
Tenma checked his empty mailbox. He kept his eyes on the floor as he crossed the student center. And when he saw others waiting for the elevator, he ducked into the stairwell. For the exercise, of course.
Sluggish steps eventually carried him to the dormitory’s top floor, to the door of the room his parents had paid extra to secure for him. He knew it was their way of showing they cared, but it also showed how little they understood him.
Tenma had spent most of his life in an ultra-streamlined apartment that echoed slightly. His older brother was away at university, carrying their father’s highest hopes. Their mother had been the secretary for a CEO for more than twenty years. Her boss considered her indispensable and paid her well, but he also monopolized most of her time. When Tenma’s family came home after their chaotic days, they found respite in the hush and spare décor. For them, the restraint and stillness were soothing.
Leaving Tenma the only unhappy one.
He’d always stuck close to home, yet he’d felt homesick his whole life. As if he belonged somewhere else. He craved something that his family couldn’t understand, and their contentment had left him lonesome.
Which is why their parting gift was in such poor taste. A room to himself.
They’d spared no expense to prolong his solitary existence—white walls, cool gray stone underfoot, and a distant skylight. His corner suite boasted views of Keishi to the south and east, an efficiency kitchen, and a tiny water closet. Father probably thought he’d want to avoid the dining hall and communal bathing facility. The furnishings Mother ordered in had all the warmth of an office lobby—icy grays, stark chrome, and glass.
The only spot of color was a flyer for the Star Festival, which he’d found tucked into a bag from the convenience store. Glossy and bright. Its array of starry pinwheels was so shockingly cheerful, tacking it up had felt like an act of rebellion.
