Page 65 of Fumiko and the Finicky Nestmate
She eyed the stairway, ready to run, anxious to climb.
Had it ever been like this before? She couldn’t remember.
Akira called her name, and Juuyu came over, presenting his palms.
“Trade with me in the manner of friends. Let us find a peaceable balance. Songs for sorting. Advocacy for indulgence.” Juuyu’s manner was solemn. “I will extend every consideration to you and your belongings if you can make allowances for this … quirk of instinct.”
His restraint had a pained quality.
Was that her fault?
“Fumiko?” He changed the way he stood. “Are you willing?”
She asked, “You want to be my chronicler?”
Juuyu angled his head to the side, and something in his gaze brightened. But then he shook his head. “I cannot take that role. Others would be more suited.”
“But I trust you.”
“Are you certain?” Juuyu tucked his chin and lowered his voice. “You are hiding things from me.”
She had. She might again. “You’ll want to see everything?”
“I will. If you will allow it.” He took one of her hands in both of his and asked, “Is this intimacy so different from that of tending?”
Fumiko thought the difference vast. “It’s one thing if it’s just me. I can’t lose myself. But everything else is completely different!”
He peered around, his attention catching on different items before returning to her face. “In what way?”
“I’ll show you.” And since he already had her hand, Fumiko used it to tug him after her. As she crossed the room, she touched items. A pale yellow soup tureen. A hummingbird feeder still in its package. An old brass compass, sigil-etched but scratched. Fumiko explained, “This was Akemi’s. Margaret would have loved this. And this was a favorite of … of … Zuzu?”
Her twin appeared.
Fumiko touched the compass. “Zuzu, who loved this one?”
“Carl,” said her sister. “Carl loved boats and tried to sail away on a raft when he was nine. What a furor that caused. But Soren jumped in after him and towed him back to shore. He wouldn’t let me help at all.”
Fumiko remembered now, and she laughed, though at the time, she’d been so afraid that she’d lose a child to the sea. “Yes, Carl. I miss Carl.”
“Is that how it is?” Juuyu looked between them and asked, “You have been compiling your own chronicle.”
“I am?”
“By longstanding custom, tree-kin of human descent are afforded a chronicler. Every grove and every familial copse employs one or more, yet you have done without. An egregious oversight.” Juuyu offered one of his hands to Zuzu, who snuggled right up to him. “You found your own way to honor your line.”
Fumiko’s lip trembled.
Nobody thought well of her growing accumulation. The interns let her have her way, since this was her home, but her choices confused them and concerned them by turns. They’d shake their heads and dust her piles. But some disapproved, and others whispered.
Greedy.
Wasteful.
Clingy.
Touchy.
Yet Juuyu not only seemed to understand, he approved. And lent words to her longing, giving it a certain dignity. She was a chronicler. Not a very good one, so she probably wasn’t suited to the role either.
