Page 4 of Kimiko and the Accidental Proposal
Middle Sister
Kimiko joined the flow of people entering the subway’s rear car and dropped gratefully onto an open seat. Her trek through the crowded shopping district had been worthwhile, but exhausting. Every housewife in Keishi must be doing last-minute errands before New Year’s Eve.
Settling her bags between her feet, she draped her forearms over her knees and peered toward the back. At first, she couldn’t see past the incoming passengers, but once they sorted into their seats, she had a clear view of the train’s security post. Usually, these were manned by an officer and their Kith partner, and she loved catching the eye of these sentient animals.
Today was a little different. No,a lotdifferent.
Her curious gaze locked with the alert yellow eyes of an Amaranthine male. Clan was obvious. Even with the concession he’d made by donning the starched shirt and pleated pants worn by security officers, his long hair was held back by a furry headband, and the top two buttons of his shift were undone, revealing a colorful collection of beaded necklaces. Definitely a wolf. Maybe even an Elderbough tracker. She couldn’t see which crest he wore on his armband.
His eyebrows lifted, and a faint smile touched his lips.
Whoops. Kimiko quickly offered a series of silent messages—embarrassed apology, one of the warmer greetings, the hope for peace, and sincere gratitude for the protection his presence offered. People around her probably didn’t even notice. Amaranthine communication wasn’t like human sign language, which depended heavily on hand gestures. Their expressions were often subtler, relying on nuances of posture.
Those yellow eyes took on an appreciative shine, and he responded in kind—surprised delight, acknowledgement of her reaver status, a promise of harmony. And after a moment’s pause, a wholly unnecessary—and intensely personal—compliment on the sweetness of her soul.
Which was really very kind, but Kimiko didn’t let it go to her head. It was practically theonlynice thing he could have said, given her low rating. But it was still nice to hear, and she flashed him a smile.
A twittering giggle snagged her attention, and she tuned in to a whispered argument across the aisle.
“No,youask him.”
“You’rethe one who’s curious.”
“Shhh!”
Kimiko turned, and two high school girls were suddenly fascinated by their phones. This again? She scratched the side of her face and glanced sheepishly back at the wolf.
He was laughing at her. Or them. Or maybe this whole silly situation. Any Amaranthine—with their keener senses—could detect something as basic as gender. With discreet gestures, the wolf called the human girls blind, he complimented Kimiko’s skill as a trickster, and he declared the advantage hers.
Another kindness. But really, she didn’t need cheering up. It happenedall the time. If it had bothered her, she could have changed her appearance or behavior. But she’d come to enjoy making people wonder.
“Askhim.”
“He must be a reaver. That tunic, for instance.”
“Could be a knock-off. Besides, you can’t tell a reaver by looking. They’re human, but withskills.”
“Would you date a reaver?”
“Depends on his skills.”
“Eee, I can’t believe yousaidthat!”
Kimiko wondered what these girls would think if they knew how totally unromantic reaver marriages usually were. It was hard to get excited about pedigree reports, progeny projections, and the filing of a dozen or more spousal applications. Often for a person you’d never met.
As one of three unmatched daughters, she knewmorethan enough about the process.
Even though looks and personality were of secondary consideration, Kimiko’s mother was forever comparing her to her older sister. Noriko was gentle and lovely and petite, just like Mama had been, back when she caught their father’s eye.
Fourteen-year-old Sakiko was promisingly pretty, if a bit taller than average. But Kimiko’s younger sister would never be mistaken for a boy. Not when her straight black hair hung like a satin curtain almost to her knees.
Kimiko was tall and flat-chested, and she kept her hair cropped. Reaver attire was unisex, and the freedom it offered only encouraged an unladylike stride. Her boots, which were standard issue for the Ingress Academy uniform, made her big feet look even bigger. Having grown up in a very normal human community, Kimiko knew she held exactly zero feminine appeal. But as a slightly-too-pretty boy, she turned heads.
Most of the time, she ignored the whispers, giggles, and long looks. But once in a while, when the circumstances fit, she was silly in her own way. Kimiko understood the elation of being noticed. She so rarely was.
So as the train neared her stop, she tucked her chin, making it even harder for her admirers to catch on. The hum of the subway changed pitch, and an automated voice announced Kikusawa’s station. Kimiko gathered up her shopping bags and, gazing up through the fringe of her bangs, caught the girls watching.
She smirked, then strode out, adding some swagger to her step. Her harmless little performance was rewarded by gasps, giggles, and bright smiles.
