Page 157 of Fumiko and the Finicky Nestmate
Suuzu tucked his chin and said, “Certainly. We are lifelong friends.”
Akira winced. He’d said all of those things so many times, trying to put their connection into human terms. By attempting to qualify their relationship, had he placed limits on it? Looking back, he guessed he’d been defining boundaries. And over the years, Suuzu had always respected them.
“Isn’t there more, though?” Akira asked. “We’re still growing, and what we need changes over time.”
“Akira,” Suuzu said softly. “I do not think I could refuse you anything.”
“Did you know Juuyu thinks I spoil you? Little does he know that you spoil me.”
Suuzu warbled weakly.
Akira hated how sad he sounded.
“Hey, since you can’t refuse, how about you let me touch your hair?”
When he finally answered, Suuzu quietly repeated, “Do you know what you are asking?”
“This isn’t anything new.”
“It feels new,” Suuzu murmured, though he draped himself across Akira’s chest, the same way he did for a long sleep.
“Yeah, I think so, too.” Akira patted Suuzu’s shoulders and admitted, “I do know what I’m asking, but that doesn’t mean I know what I’m doing. So bear with me.”
“I will.”
Akira worked his fingers through loose curls, tugging and kneading and combing. It really wasn’t anything new, because this was how he helped Suuzu settle in for a long sleep. But their little routine changed up when Suuzu adjusted his hold in order to slide his fingers across Akira’s tattoo.
Soon, Suuzu began to croon softly.
Smiling crookedly, Akira asked, “Are you singing to the sigil, or letting me know this feels good?”
“Both.”
The hour lingered late, and still Suuzu made little bids for his soul’s attention. And in exchange, Akira made a thorough mess of his hair … and tickled his ears, which may have also been a bid for attention. And before long, Akira thought that maybe—just a little—he could hear distant music. As if the stars themselves had picked up Suuzu’s song and were humming along.
Akira had no idea why it hadn’t occurred to him that Tabi-otosan was using illusions. But Juuyu had been filling out forms for the last two days, and the details on one of the registration papers caught his eye.
“This part’s wrong. His eyes are brown. Like mine.”
Juuyu paused to check his work. “Not so.”
Akira looked to Suuzu, who’d been focused on his tattoo for the better part of an hour. “What color are Tabi-otosan’s eyes?”
“I could not say,” Suuzu murmured distractedly. “Too much camouflage.”
“Really? Are they actually red?” Akira next appealed to Sinder. “How was I supposed to know he was disguised?”
“When you look at Hajime, do you see flowers?”
“Nooo,” admitted Akira.
“Yet he scatters flower petals wherever he goes. You never gave a thought to where they come from?” Sinder’s tone turned teasing. “And I suppose when those dragons potted him, they docked his ears?”
“Oh. Well, when you put it like that ….” Akira asked, “How much am I missing?”
Juuyu said, “Ask him to show you. I have little doubt he would indulge your interest.”
“Leafling,” added Sinder.
