Eito and Takumi stumble upon a child lingering on the edges of their settlement and take her in. Somehow, they end up being more responsible for her than initially assumed. Eito, often distant from the children of the school, doesn't know how to feel about this.
But Takumi doesn't give him much of a choice. So it goes.
“Hey, Aotsuki, you see anything?” Takumi ducked out of the way of a brittle branch with sharp thorns to spare, raising his sword and cutting through yet another chunk of brush. He picked off remnants of cobwebs from the dingy uniform Nozomi made for him and the rest of the fighters, looking off to the side towards Eito.
Eito, who looked away, far far away.
“Aotsuki?” Takumi repeated, but nothing reached him. He traveled to Eito’s side with a huff and elbowed him in the ribs. “I said—”
“I heard a horrendous cry just now,” Eito said, nose scrunched up, gaze fixed away from Takumi—from anything, really. “Something so horrible, so disturbing, ear-flinching and an affront to existence itself—”
Takumi elbowed him again. “Get to the point, already.”
“Ugh,” Eito grunted, “I thought I’d already made it clear. I think someone’s tailing us, and it’d save us a lot of effort if they revealed themselves right now instead of making us put forth the effort to hunt them down.”
Eito swung his scythe around, cutting up some weeds as he turned, pointing the sharp, bright red end at a bush. “You’ll die either way. Perhaps you’d like to make it painless?”
Takumi turned towards a muted whimper, a shaking encased by leaves, mouth pressed in a thin line; he regarded the spot of green littered with bugs as though it contained an Undying Flames bomb. Soon he joined Eito in aiming his weapon. Since they’d founded their school to take in victims of the war between humans and futurans, determined to give them a semblance of a normal life after all the SDU had taken from them, they’ve had to fend off human soldiers, mercenaries from various factions of futurans, bandits, criminals, people with grudges and weapons…
Safe’s to say, of the people who intruded on the school unannounced, most of them turned out to be enemies. A scant few revealed themselves to be innocents. They’d long since learned to be cautious before being welcoming, arming themselves before daring to discard their fear.
It was the world they lived in, now.
The kind of world which would drive a child, pushed to the brink, to wander into unknown territory into the hands of cold-hearted former invaders. A tiny, pale face littered with freckles and framed in red hair peeked out from between leaves and spiders, teary-eyed. The pair’s blades sat inches from her face.
“—Ah—“ Takumi stumbled back, weapon at his side while Eito never once faltered, keeping up his cautious demeanor even as the girl, taking a step back and clinging to air, stared back—defenseless.
If someone sent her to cause conflict, then they sent this unarmed child to her death.
“Takumi, stand back,” Eito said, lowering his scythe only to grab the girl by the wrist. She donned thick beige robes which Eito narrowed his eyes at. “She could be strapped to a bomb, you know? It wouldn’t be the first time someone’s stooped to those atrocities.”
Takumi wished he could deny that. He stepped back, letting Eito take charge in doing a quick pat-down before he stared, moving back as well.
“…She’s clear,” Eito said. “Are you going to show off your magnanimous nature once more and guide her?”
“We don’t know if she wants to stay,” Takumi said, wincing at his own stupidity. They established their school far away from any cities or even villages—they took care to survey the land in advance before breaking ground—to ensure no civilians ended up intertwined with their cause, displaced from their lands because the SDU pretended to be noble and make a shelter where one already existed.
They’d already doomed this planet. More specifically, Takumi doomed it. He wouldn’t hurt anyone else if he had a choice.
The child looked up at Takumi. Her face pulled into neutrality despite the fear her occasional jolts displayed, she raised a hand, so close yet so welcoming.
“…is it safe here?”
Takumi blinked. “Huh?”
Empty tired eyes, something which darkly suited her age and stature, reflected Takumi’s gaze back at him. “Is it…safe here? Before the monsters took her, mom said to follow the mountain stream to a school. The people there will take anyone. They’re…obli—um…they have to.”
Oh.
Was that how the locals saw them? Not that they did much to disparage that reputation—having been focused on expanding the dorms due to the sharp increase in refugees fleeing to their safe, cultivated bubble.
Takumi smiled, forcing himself to relax despite every reason he had to be cautious, taking the girl’s hand with practiced friendliness. He wondered if it worked—if anyone bought it. He couldn’t imagine most people saw kindness in his smile. He’d been through too much, seen too much to recapture that kind of innocence again, grasping onto practiced fragments and fraudulent, painted gestures.
With every stroke he captured an old part of him—existing only in blurry, faulty, fake memories.
“You’re safe here,” he said, words stinging his tongue. “I promise.”
Eito watched. Weapon bared, waiting to be proven wrong about the innocence of this little girl—the spit and spat of a monster sprawled before him. When the moment never came he fell in line as always.
Following Takumi and the child at a safe, comfortable distance, never letting his guard down for even a moment.
“So, what’s your name?”
Takumi patted the spot next to him, the girl about a few feet away, hands clasped behind her back. She still wore the same dusty rags she walked in with—while Nozomi went to work preparing a room and hunting for correctly-sized garments, he took the unknown girl outside. All the other children were in class as of that moment. They’d be able to talk, figure out her situation, and get some preliminary info on her so that they’d be able to help her settle in without any disturbances.
…Right, just Takumi, this child, and Eito, who watched from behind a tree with his scythe still in hand.
Takumi tried to ignore him, patting the ground once more. He gave up when she stayed where she was. “Uh…you have a name, right?”
Eito winced. The girl shook her head, and with a quiet voice, uttered: “…innia…”
“Huh?”
“Z'hinnia. My—I am called…Z’hinnia. Please let me stay.”
Takumi smiled. There’s progress, he thought. “Yeah, ‘course we’ll let you stay. It’s what we’re here for. First, we’re gonna need to talk to you about some things. If there’s anything you don’t wanna chat about now—uh, or ever, feel free to say something.”
She frowned and nodded. Takumi had a feeling she wouldn’t tell them much of anything, but that was fine. Some children needed the catharsis of throwing memories of their past life onto anyone willing to listen, while others required a more patient hand.
If she wanted to stay silent forever, she could, and so far it seemed to be the option she opted for—Z’hinnia turned her head to the side.
“Oka—” Takumi began, only for someone to interject.
“And if there’s anything you want to confess, feel free to do so as soon as possible. The longer you wait, the worse it’ll be for you.” Eito flashed a carefree smile as he clasped his hands behind his back and emerged from his hiding spot. At least he had the sense to hide his scythe, but the Class Armor alone made the poor kid tense up and run to hide behind Takumi.
“C’mon, man,” Takumi grumbled, “put that away.”
“Put what away? My weapon?” Eito revealed his hands. “I’m not threatening the child with anything.”
“You know what I mean, don’t play dumb.”
“Hmmmm…”
“Aotsuki. Don’t make me tell Mojiro.”
“Telling on me? You haven’t changed a bit, Takumi,” Eito said, looking away. Though he seemed dismissive, after a moment, his armor dissipated in exchange for his normal clothes. He still dressed for a fight, like most of them did, padded thick unfashionable garbs hiding under armor, but at least he didn’t seem ready to maim the girl anymore.
Z’hinnia peaked out from behind Takumi’s back. “Why…? Did I—do something wrong?”
Takumi put his hands up, stepping between Eito and Z’hinnia. “He doesn’t want to kill you.”
“Yet.”
“Aotsuki, stop making my job harder!”
“Oh, but personally, I don’t think our illustrious leader works nearly as hard as he needs to. I’m just adding a little more to your plate, out of courtesy—don’t you remember, it’s just a very human thing to do, littering and making a mess knowing someone will be there to pick it up for you?”
“Shut up, we’re trying to help her here. It’s not the time for this.”
“It’s always the time to reflect on the selfishness of living when so many innocents have died.”
Takumi nearly forgot where they were and cursed out Eito then and there, only to have his attention pulled away by a small laugh. Eito looked down at the girl with a curious expression, and she clammed up and looked away from him.
“…Huh.” Eito pressed his lips into a thin line. “Is something amusing?”
Takumi rolled his eyes. Somehow, around Eito, he always returned to the usual annoyed banter they fell into when they were on the cusp of adulthood. “You being a complete smartass is funny to watch, I guess.”
“Oh, Takumi, forgetting to watch your language?”
“Shit—” Takumi put a hand over his mouth while Eito laughed, a smaller giggle intermixed. Z’hinnia beamed, stepping away from the pair as if joining the audience.
“Can you keep doing that?” she said, smiling. “It’s funny.”
“Funny?” Takumi said, sighing. “Seriously…”
Eito cleaned his throat, throwing an arm out as if introducing a new act. “If our audience wants an encore, who are we to deny them? I might as well start with a play of my own—a live, passionate recounting of our Leader Takumi’s most embarrassing moments. You might think him to have the mind and capacity of a grown man, but peel back the curtain and you’ll find yourself sorely mistaken.”
“Hey, seriously, stop—!” Takumi threw a hand out, but Eito rebuffed him by shoving the poor ‘leader’ to the ground.
“Just yesterday, a certain Takumi Sumino left the toilet lid up,” Eito said, “knowing Nozomi was waiting outside to use it next. Did I mention the loads of dirty laundry he leaves lying about his office? Oh, he knows someone will pick up after him, so he behaves like a pampered child and lives without regard for any of the labor people put into keeping him clothed and fed.”
“That’s enough!” Takumi tackled Eito, the two kicking up a cloud of arid, choking dirt. He punched Eito in the jaw—Eito slung at Takumi’s temple. They would’ve torn each other apart if a high-pitched laughter didn’t tear away Takumi’s anger (and in Eito’s case, replace rage with disgust), the pair staring at the flustered child; miles away from the reticent thing she’d been in the beginning.
Takumi shoved himself off of Eito, staring. “…Is this funny to her?”
“You seem to be quite the natural comedian, Tak—ow…” Eito cradled the side of his face, welts forming from their scuffle.
“Suffer,” Takumi spat, before moving towards the child and offering a hand. “Okay, fun’s over. How about we take you to your new room?”
Once Z’hinnia calmed down, she grabbed onto Takumi’s hand, following him in—but just before they entered, she held another hand out.
For who else?
Eito stared, and after taking a deep breath as though stealing a gulp of fresh air before he plunged into a sewer, he trudged over and held on.
“Doesn’t seem too bad, right?” Takumi said, smiling. The girl sat on the bed, staring at the frayed edges. “This is just for a little while—once you get settled in, we’ll have you move in with some of the other girls. Unless you really need the space. I’m sure we can get Maruko to help us rework the floor plan for a couple more solo rooms.”
“…So even this is temporary.” Z’hinnia gripped the sheets, lifting them and pulling them around her as if forming a cocoon under which no one could hurt her. She flopped over. No matter what Takumi said, she refused to look up, and after a few more attempts to engage with the girl he gave up and stepped outside. There, Eito waited, a cloth pressed to his nose and mouth. He always complained about the stench of the dormitory, but Takumi refused to handle this on his own, forcing the man to follow him inside regardless.
The two moved a hall down from Z’hinnia’s dorm before they dared to speak. “How did you upset her this time?” Eito said.
Takumi groaned. “’S not my fault. The second she saw the place, she just…shut down, again.”
“Likely because she processed her circumstances once more. Realizing she’s truly on her own, needing to form new connections with other children who might not even like her. Monsters that may ostracize her and make this school just as much of a living hell as the chaotic world she came from.”
“We don’t have a bullying problem!”
“And how do you know? You can’t say for sure without having eyes on the inside. Children can make a lot of mischief when adults aren’t looking.”
“This isn’t about—” Takumi sighed, looking away, “—we’re getting off track. Okay, you’re right, she needs something to make her forget about all the terrible stuff outside.”
Eito smiled, so politely. “We could have me go through your most humiliating moments from last week. I have them all noted down.”
“We don’t—wait, huh?”
“But it’d get repetitive if we just did the same thing over and over,” Eito continued on, ignoring Takumi (despite his repeated attempts at interjection), “so it’ll be good for us to figure out a new strategy.”
“…Us?” Takumi said.
“What? You’ve forced me into this and now you’re going to feign ignorance? I’m disappointed.”
“I had to make you stick around!” Takumi yelled, rubbing the deep purple bruise on his cheek. “And look at what it’s got me.”
Eito tapped his bruise as well, suspiciously identical. “Maybe you should think of others for a change,” he said. “You’re lucky I was too focused on the moment, otherwise I would’ve dirtied your newly washed uniform.”
“You’re still on about that…?”
“Yes, I’m still on about the revulsion I’m overcome with by standing next to you,” Eito said, and for some reason, Takumi stepped away.
“—Sorry,” he said, “you’re right. Sorry. It’s just…easy to forget, I guess, when I’m not the one who has to deal with it.”
Eito stared, trying, failing, and in the end not quite mustering a response to Takumi’s sudden spark of awareness. Maybe it was due to age? They’d grown a lot in the years since they founded this school, not only in the obvious ways but in the budding empathy and understanding they’d fostered between one another. Though Takumi couldn’t—wouldn’t ever get the chance to understand Eito’s life, he sometimes knew when to push and when to pull away.
And with that messy awareness, Eito put a hand to his mouth, keeping his thoughts to his heart.
“…perhaps…”
Takumi turned. “Aotsuki?”
Eito leaned against the wall, staring out a window. “What better way to distract a child from the horrors of war than to give them a happy memory? In fact, make it something for all the children—a picnic, out in the courtyard, tomorrow. We’ll accompany Z’hinnia if she needs familiar faces around while the rest of them stay on guard."
Them, emphasized like so, indicated the former SDU. Plenty of futurans and a few human defectors helped as guards too, but naturally those wielders of cryptoglobin made up the meat of their defense.
Takumi met Eito with a blank look, processing, until a smile spread over his face. “Yeah. You know, Aotsuki, you’re not that bad with kids, as long as you’re not around them.”
Eito shot a glare—Takumi swallowed and looked away.
Even with the mountain of preparation ahead, Eito found no peace in the kitchen. Takumi and Eito informed the others of their plans, and for the most part, everyone sorted themselves into teams between event planning, decorations, and guard duty. Eito alone worked on preparing everyone’s meals just as he liked it.
Though he learned to tolerate eating food touched by another person as long as said person never once mentioned they had a hand in it, he still preferred to be alone when in the kitchen. He was more than happy making a mountain of sandwiches with his own two hands to feed an even bigger black hole of open mouths.
So, why…
Why.
“Takumi, is being a useless disturbance to everyone around you an immutable part of your nature?”
“C’mon, I said I wouldn’t touch your portion!” Takumi snapped, dicing up a basket worth of tomatoes. True to his word, a paper wrapped sandwich sat several feet away from the prep station.
“Oh, it has nothing to do with that. If you’re not aware of it, then how am I supposed to help you?”
“Implying you’ve ever ‘helped’ me before…”
Eito clicked his tongue. “Counting all the times I’ve saved your life from surprise attacks, I’d say I’ve accumulated quite the score. Yet, this is how you treat me? Forcing yourself into the one space I’m afforded the grace to be left alone? No wonder Nozomi always gives you that look.”
“What look?” Takumi said, and Eito, down to the turn of her lips, replicated Nozomi’s look of annoyance she donned whenever Takumi became overprotective of her.
Takumi gripped the knife, taking a breath and going back to work. “Whatever, man.”
“Point proven,” Eito said, assembling another sandwich, filling up one of the last baskets with it. “Stop and move on to the lettuce. We’re running out of room.”
“Can’t you just talk like a normal person?” Regardless, Takumi did as asked.
Reaching for another empty basket, Eito laughed. “Can’t birds simply stop flying into the sky and blocking our wonderful view? Can’t humans and Futurans just get along?”
Takumi said nothing. Eito knew his last comment was uncalled for, however right it was, but he wouldn’t apologize for saying the truth. He never did and he wasn’t about to start now to protect their precious leader’s feelings.
So he worked. And in the silence…
“Yeah, they can,” Takumi said. “If they try.”
“…I’m trying.”
“I know. If it’d been a decade ago, you would’ve locked me out.”
“Hah. I can’t deny that. Somehow I’ve managed to bear your revolting company now, but if you think I might’ve begun to enjoy it, you’d be better off pushing that stupid thought out of your head before it rots the rest of your meager braincells.”
“Then why let me in?” Takumi flicked the knife back, setting it aside as he prepped, cleaned, and started on the lettuce. “I’m not stupid.”
Eito grit his teeth. A million more sarcastic responses—playful ones, not that he’d admit that—bubbled as his tongue, but a veneer of sarcasm did little to throw Takumi off his trail. If only he was as stupid as he seemed.
If only.
“Everything good?”
Eito cursed himself for hesitating and went back to work. He dared not trust himself to say another word.
In a way, he knew exactly how to reach Z’hinnia because he understood how she saw the world. The terror of putting your life in the hands of monsters, accepting them as your guardians. The vast majority of the world distrusted and derided the former SDU and for good reason. The blood of their heroes stuck to their hands—they were lucky, though, that most nations concerned themselves with human attacks over attempting to destroy their settlement.
Even then, they bore the brand of monsters. Any child who came to reside with them had every right to fear them. Whenever Z’hinnia saw them, she likely imagined blood-covered, ravenous creations of war waiting to sink their teeth into the next battle. A dreadful lust for murder burned into their DNA and woven into their creation.
A sentence…which resided not too far from the truth.
Eito chewed on his lip and tasted the alien blood. A hint of sugar layered in tiny pricks over pungent, sour-salty copper.
He knew the nightmares Z’hinnia saw. So it became easy to imagine what it might take for her to step out of the nightmare. If one of them could, if one of them managed to shake off the pounding fear, disgust, hate, then let it be her. Let it be someone deserving.
And as for Eito himself…
He looked to Takumi, who was far too focused on his work to notice. He took in every inch of his garbled form, amalgamated chunks of flash organized into something brought into this world to annoy him. But annoyance hadn’t been the dominant emotion so long ago.
Hatred had won. It took a common enemy to break him out of it, the sacrifice of a life never lived.
But no matter how hard Eito searched, even if he dug to the depths of his soul and turned it inside out, revealed the ugly seams, he couldn’t find it anymore.
Eito squeezed his eyes shut, blade sliding and cutting his finger.
“Aotsuki, it’s okay to make mistakes,” Nozomi said, tightening the gauze as Eito rolled his eyes.
“I never asked you to help,” he said. “I know how to perform basic first aid.”
Nozomi stepped back, the light of the sun bouncing off the perfect white walls of the nurse’s room and giving her an angelic, artificial glow. Like a moon. “I know, but I thought it’d be a good chance to ask you something.”
“While foisting the rest of my work onto Takumi?”
“Ah—well…I know he can handle it.”
Nozomi looked to the side like she were sharing gossip. “You two were the ones to find Z’hinnia. And now you’re both doing this to cheer her up—”
“It was Takumi’s idea,” Eito interjected, and Nozomi nodded.
“Okay, but I still like to give credit where it’s due. You’ve both done so much for her—and I’m grateful. It’s not easy to reach the hard of a hurt child, and I can’t say we’ve even managed to do so with all our current residents…but, when possible, I’d like to try. So!”
Nozomi clapped her hands together. “I thought we could pair other children struggling to adjust with an adult mentor they can bond with through this picnic. If they can have someone they feel they can confide in, it might help them become more comfortable here…and I’m assuming, since neither of you are on guard duty, that you and Sumino are going to be there for Z’hinnia?”
“Aha, why am I not surprised you figured it out?” Eito laughed, flexing his bandaged finger before tucking it away, satisfied. “Very well. I’m sure if I left this to Takumi alone, he’d achieve a world record for how many times you can stuff your foot in your mouth.”
A breathless laugh escaped Nozomi—she clasped her mouth shut, denied the amusement. “Sorry,” she said, as if Eito cared. “…Um—as long as you can help her acclimate, I’ll be grateful.”
With a hurried bow she bolted. Eito rubbed his temples, considering running after Nozomi and putting her through the wringer with that annoyingly perfect behavior of hers, but he decided against it.
For now.
After all, he had something bigger he needed to handle. Not only with the rest of the food prep, but with what was about to follow—what he’d need to be. With him and Takumi taking charge in befriending this young girl, the more he twisted that thought in his brain, the more he felt like…
They were—like guardians? To her?
Eito couldn’t understand. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to, if he feared the idea of becoming something so foreign. Could monsters become friends with the clean, the innocent?
Could they?
Could Eito, too…?
“Hey, catch!”
Takumi threw the ball with perfect posture, and it donked Z’hinnia on the head and sent her falling in an equally brutal, perfect manner, leaving Takumi to aid her before she rolled down the hill they’d been situated on. “Shit, sorry, sorry, I’m sorry!!”
They’d picked the only place with a view to give Z’hinnia some privacy, and to provide some assistance (on the down-low) to the guards. They’d be able to join the battle if a large group of soldiers crossed into their territory without having to wait for a messenger.
Though hopefully it wouldn’t come to that. Even if a battle, however violent and one-sided, felt far more within Eito’s purview than…whatever this was.
Takumi laid a dazed Z’hinnia on the picnic blanket. “I’m sorry, okay?” he said again, crushed.
Z’hinnia said nothing. She stared, hiccuped, and broke into laughter. “Hehe…you’re really bad at this, mister.”
“I’m not—” Takumi blanked. “I mean…I’ll work on my throw. And—uh, you don’t gotta call me that. I’m not about the formalities.”
“Um—okay….” Z’hinnia kicked the ground. “…Red.”
“…What.”
Z’hinnia pointed. “I’ll—call you red.”
Takumi thought to object, but his brain (for once) caught up before his mouth spat out some stupid response or other. Maybe this was the bridge in-between formality and casual address. If she didn’t feel comfortable greeting him like anyone else, if nicknames helped close the gap, then he’d gladly accept—
She pointed at Eito, next. “Silver.”
“Don’t call me that,” Eito snapped, sneering as Z’hinnia flinched and hid behind Takumi. Out of duty, he stormed over and smacked Eito on the head.
“Be nice,” he hissed, “silver.”
Eito glowered, backing away from Takumi. With a sigh, he put distance between himself and his belligerent co-parent, retrieving the ball. By now Z’hinnia seemed tired of games, snacking on a sandwich while helping herself to some water. Something which had become harder to find, lately—not that they’d ever let the children know.
Of course not. Never. Takumi sat down and smiled, Eito situating himself as well.
“Are you…having fun?” Takumi asked, and the little girl nodded. “You like the food? How’re the other kids treating you? There’s, uh—no bullying, right?”
Eito smirked. Takumi tried to ignore it—tried.
She blushed, shaking her head. “I—I like it. And everyone’s nice. Really nice….”
“Almost too nice,” Eito said. Z’hinnia fell silent. “…You know, it doesn’t matter what you call someone. Assigning a name to another is a thing people do to establish sentimental attachments.”
Z’hinnia seemed confused. Eito cleared his throat. “As an example, I’m the only one who calls Takumi by his first name. Because we have such special sentiments, don’t we?”
“I never asked for this,” Takumi grumbled, jabbing a thumb at Eito. Takumi then reached for a sandwich and filled his mouth with food before he dared get wrapped up in another argument.
“Well, he wouldn’t have invited me if he didn’t care,” Eito said, so matter-of-factly he wondered if he fell ill last night and woke up with a case of deliriousness. “So if you want to call me a name no one else does, you’ll need to consider the kind of sentiment you’re expressing.”
Z’hinnia said nothing. Eito sighed, giving up, but—
But even so. “…Just like…”
“What?”
She pointed. “You’re just like my…dad. He used to talk about all kinds of things I couldn’t understand. He made so much noise, but…I never figured out any of it.”
“I…see.” Eito pinched the bridge of his nose, trying with all his might not to take it as an insult. “Wonderful.”
The girl stared at her hands, at Eito, and back again, until she picked herself up, moved over to Eito side, and curled in. Takumi jumped to his feet. “Hey, wa—”
“Shut up.”
Takumi froze. Eito tensed, stone still, as Z’hinnia looked at him with confusion, almost fear, but after he nodded she relaxed again. Takumi watched, like Eito had just said he was about to bring world peace, waved a magic wand and made everyone sing around a campfire. Did he enjoy having this ghastly creature pressed up so close to him?
Of course not. Other than Takumi, no one’s ever gotten so close to him in ages. He couldn’t bear it, especially not with children, who seemed more pungent, more frightening than the people he’d known for years. Maybe it wasn’t right to lie to Z’hinnia and act as if it was nothing.
Maybe not.
But she needed this—she needed a familiar comfort, and if it’d finally let her fit in, he’d grin and bear it. Because Takumi asked him to help, and he damn well never half-assed his job.
Z’hinnia’s tendrils—arms—encased him. Takumi sat back down, frowning, until she released Eito with a smile.
“Thank you,” she said, and despite the nightmares, despite the horrors, despite the fact Eito couldn’t quite escape the monsters of the world the way she managed, seeing the sparkle return to her lopsided eyes made him wonder.
If he, too, could…
“Aotsuki.”
Eito looked up. Takumi smiled—and for some stupid reason, Eito wanted to remember this moment. To remember the look on Takumi’s face, burn it into his memory, let the monster wriggle its way in and act as if it had anything of comfort to provide.
The trio devolved into chatter, Takumi leading as Eito ate and offered occasional interjections. They learned about Z’hinnia’s family, about the other children she traveled with before she became lost.
“We’ll go find them,” Takumi said, a spark of determination festering. He put a hand on Eito’s shoulder. “Right?”
Eito nodded. “It’s been quiet enough. With all the trouble you turned out to be, finding a group of your friends shouldn’t be difficult in the least.”
“Hey, c’mon! I thought you were trying to be nice.”
“Did I say that? Or did you imagine it like how you imagined you had to wake up two hours later than we planned—”
“Hey, HEY!! You know, the bed’s just so warm—how does anyone get up that early?”
“I suppose you have plenty of options, since everyone else seems capable of such a basic task. Is our ever deficient leader ready to learn from the experts?”
Z’hinnia giggled, snapping the two out of their argument. And in that instant, that beautiful instant, they forgot the anger, and remembered her smile instead.