Page 28 of Kimiko and the Accidental Proposal
With no sign of anyone coming or going, Kimiko hightailed it up the shrine stairs. She was two-thirds of the way to the top—it was a matter of pride for all the Miyabe girls that they could climb the full length without stopping—when Akira called out.
“Wait up!” Akira gesticulated uselessly. She really needed to teach him some basics. “Suuzu’s looking at something.”
Kimiko moved to one side in order to see to the bottom, where the phoenix stood as still as the statue he was studying. Skipping back down, she stopped beside Akira. “Sorry, Suuzu,” she said in a normal speaking voice. “I guess I should have started our tour with those.”
He gestured for peace and patience as he circled the second crouching dragon.
Akira fidgeted on the edge of the step, but he also understood that Suuzu could hear them fine, despite the distance. “So …dragons, huh? Is there a story behind those?”
“Of course! And it comes in two versions—one for the general public, one for members of the In-between.”
Suuzu was beside them in a flicker of movement so fast, he seemed to step out of thin air. He said, “I would like to hear more. After you introduce me to your tree.”
Kimiko couldn’t imagine why he was so serious. She’d mostly been teasing. But she gestured for quiet and jogged upward, taking the last dozen steps two at a time.
Akira was puffing when he caught up, but his eyes were sparkling. “Youlivehere?”
“Welcome to Kikusawa Shrine.” And with a furtive scamper, she took a path shielded by an enormous rhododendron hedge that still clung to its leaves, a thicket of red-twigged maples, and a double row of burlap-wrapped lumps that would become showy hydrangeas come summer. “This way,” she whispered, pointing upward.
They were already under the outermost edge of the vast canopy of the city’s oldest living resident. Well, that had been its claim to fame before the Emergence. First and second generation Amaranthine were old enough, one of them might have actually planted the ancient tree.
Kikusawa’s giant was as much a landmark of the Keishi skyline as the bell tower of Saint Midori’s. All commemorative photographs taken by the Miyabe family—by most families in Kikusawa, for that matter—had a bark backdrop. It was considered lucky to mark milestones under the shelter of its limbs, as if all of them were including the tree in their celebrations. Birthdays, graduations, weddings, reunions, festivals, and holidays. But Kimiko’s attachment to the tree was more personal.
The tree was her hideaway. Tucked amidst its roots, she used to pretend that it was one of the fabled Amaranthine trees, sentient despite its long silence. She’d imagined her soul was a comfort, that her words could reach the person inside. So she’d tried to become the tree’s steadiest companion; in return, it had become her confidante.
“Wow. What kind of tree gets this big?” asked Akira.
“No one’s entirely sure. I mean, the official story is that it’s an obscure variety of camphor tree.”
“But it’s not?” asked Akira.
“No,” said Suuzu, peering up at its waxy, evergreen foliage. “It is not.”
“Specialists from the reaver community come every once in a while, taking samples, running tests, and making a huge mess by scrounging through our archives.” Kimiko led Akira and Suuzu to a spot on the quiet side of the tree, away from the path, out of view from the house. “Their best guess is that the tree is some kind of hybrid, a sort of halfway descendant of the trees of song.”
Akira pressed a hand to the tree. “Why not ask the Amaranthine?”
“The reavers have. Lots of times. It’s in the records, and they always give the same answer—Kusunoki is sleeping.”
“What’sthatsupposed to mean?” Akira flung his arms wide and sprawled against the trunk, but the tree was too big to hug. They’d have needed most of their class linking hands to surround it. “Anybody home?” he inquired softly.
Kimiko leaned into the tree, gazing up through limbs she knew how to reach—and still sometimes climbed. In summer, she liked to revisit the maze of limbs that cast shade over the shrine courtyard.
Settling into a familiar curve amidst the roots, she said, “I used to sit here for hours, especially when Grandma made me read. Sharing the drudgery with my tree made it easier to get through all the boring subjects I had to take at Kikusawa Middle. I wasn’t very good in school, but trees are patient. We made it through somehow.”
Akira groaned sympathetically and lowered himself to an adjacent twist of wood. “Same for me, only I had Suuzu and his tutoring to get me through.”
Suuzu’s soft trill was hard for Kimiko to interpret, but the accompanying posture was self-deprecating. That made sense. Especially when you added in Akira’s small smile, which was all patience and fondness andthere you go again.
After a scant week, Kimiko’s accumulating impressions were settling into patterns. Suuzu was quick to notice but rarely spoke up. He was efficient and orderly, but in a quiet way, as if he didn’t want to impose his preferences. She’d begun to think of him as passive, but that didn’t jive with the enigmatic undercurrent she was picking up now. It was so … forceful.
Was he trying to wake her tree?
Shaking free of the fanciful notion, Kimiko said, “Kusunoki is my favorite part of home, but there are lots of other good places. Like the storehouse attic. The reliquerium. And the archive, of course.” Kimiko had inherited care of the shrine’s extensive literature collection after her grandfather’s death. She might not like to read, but she excelled at organizing collections. “What would you like to see next?”
Suuzu shook his head. “You spoke of dragons. Tell us their story, and in return, I will sing you a song of trees.”
“Okay, but not out here.” Kimiko gave an exaggerated shudder. “Follow me to a warmer hiding place.”
