Page 6 of Kimiko and the Accidental Proposal
“Are you waiting for me?” Kimiko called.
“Not particularly. But welcome home, anyhow.”
Her younger sister was sitting on the third step from the bottom, a round cushion protecting her posterior from frigid stone. The full legs of her red hakama billowed above the neat set of her feet, and her long hair pooled artfully at her side. She made a lovely picture. And knew it.
It was Kimiko’s private opinion that her sister only exerted herself if a minimum of three reasons hung in the balance. Like a strategy quota.
Sakiko took in her appearance with a sweeping gaze. “Your priorities are as baffling as ever.”
Kimiko hunched her shoulders. “Daddy said I could go.”
“I’m not sure we should be relying onhispriorities, either.” Her sister’s chin lifted. “You need to make the best possible impression the day after tomorrow. Our future depends on it.”
“One year at New Saga High School isn’t going to add any polish to our pedigree.”
“No, but you’ll be meeting important people.” Sakiko shook a finger at her. “Connections lead to contracts!”
While she didn’t necessarily share her sister’s ambitious brand of optimism, Kimiko couldn’t deny that New Saga represented a unique chance. All members of the Kikusawa branch of the Miyabe family were reavers in good standing, but their numbers and ranking had diminished over the generations.
The only way to bring up the quality of their pedigree was through marriage. But reavers from the best families didn’t apply for lackluster girls. And the daughters of Kikusawa Shrine had few chances to make the kinds of connections that might improve their circumstances.
That was mostly their mother’s doing.
Although Sakiko had a point about their father’s priorities.
Mama was a local girl—not a reaver—but Daddy had brought her into the family. His bride remained blissfully ignorant of the In-between until Noriko was of the usual age to enroll at Ingress. Then came an almighty falling out and an intensely awkward coming out. But Kikuko Miyabe flat-out refused to uphold reaver tradition and send her children away.
People would havetalked.
So Noriko, Kimiko, and Sakiko had attended the neighborhood kindergarten, primary, and middle schools. On the condition that they forgo any extracurricular clubs in favor of reaver training at home.
Until her entrance exam for Ingress Academy two years ago, Kimiko’s way of life was barely distinguishable from that of any other girl in Kikusawa. At least outwardly. Because those extra lessons at home had brought a covert stream of intriguing tutors. At the beginning, Kimiko hadn’t understood that many of these people weren’t human.
One of her earliest memories was of a smooth face and strange eyes, soft hands and a gentle smile. She could remember reaching up ... and the stranger reaching back. And being calledpuppy. Now, she understood that their special guest had been brought in to assess the girls’ potential.
Grandma’s crisp words cut across the good memory. “Thisis what comes of marrying for love.”
But then her grandfather had said, “A star is a star, no matter how brightly it shines.”
And that had made Kimiko so happy, because the Star Festival had already been her favorite, even back then.
She quickly learned to tell the difference between her human and inhuman instructors. The reavers were usually Daddy’s old classmates, former teachers, or acquaintances from other temples and shrines. Amaranthine visitors were usually acquaintances of her grandfather, or more accurately, of her grandfather’s grandfather. Their memories were as long as their lifespans, and they were willing to show kindness to the descendants of a friend.
Piecemeal. Secretive. Detached. Eclectic. It was like being stuck in the very middle of the middle. Her childhood had rung with constant warnings from Grandma about keeping the family secret from kids at school. She’d then enrolled at Ingress Academy a full decade behind other reavers her age—unknown and unremarkable.
New Saga reallymighthelp matters. And the only reason Kimiko would have this opportunity was because Sakiko had applied on her behalf.
“What are you even doing down here?” Kimiko asked.
Her sister patted a squat clay pot at her side. One grandpa used to use during certain ceremonies and rituals. “Checking for icy patches.”
“No, really.” Because the south-facing stairway needed salting about as often as it needed purifying. “What are you waiting for?”
“There might be a packet.”
“Our mailbox is at the back gate.”
Sakiko lifted her eyes to the sky as if asking for patience. “I’m waiting for a herald.”
