The storm raged all night. Yukiko only managed a few hours of fitful half-sleep before the groggy morning light pawed its way through the canopy, pushing the sleep from her eyes. She had dreamed again of the green-eyed samurai, adrift on a crimson sea of lotus blossom. He had reached out to touch her lips, sending delighted shivers down her spine. She scowled now at the memory, cursing the stupidity of it all. Stranded in the deep wilderness with an impossible beast and a godsdamned Guildsman, and she was wasting sleep dreaming about boys.
As she peeled her eyes open, Buruu’s gut was growling, and her own stomach murmured in sympathy. Kin was already awake, standing beneath the sprawling boughs of his maple tree, keeping a safe distance from the thunder tiger. He was trying to bend the torn plates of his skin closed with a handwrench, pounding the ruptured pipes with the hilt, sealing them as best he could. The dull clank of metal hitting metal drowned out the sound of the rain. Yukiko foraged around the damp roots below her tree, finding a few small mushrooms. She scoffed down half before wandering over and offering the rest to Kin.
“No need,” he buzzed, gesturing to the cluster of pipes and compartments on his back. “It will be several weeks before I run low on nutrients.”
Yukiko blinked.
“The suit feeds me intravenously. A complex string of protein and mineral supplements. It is forbidden for us to eat the food of the hadanashi.”
Yukiko narrowed her eyes at the word.
“What do you mean ‘hadanashi?’ ”
“People without skins.” He shrugged. “People like you.”
“What’s wrong with people like me?” Yukiko put her hands on her hips.
“You’re polluted by the lotus. The food you eat, the water you drink. We’re forbidden to come into direct contact with the bloom or anything touched by it.”
“Look around you,” Yukiko laughed. “There’s no lotus for miles. You can’t even smell it up here. Go on, try some mushrooms.”
Kin shook his head.
“It is forbidden.”
“Well, it’s forbidden to take off your suit and let your face be seen by a hadanashi girl too.” She covered her mouth, feigning shock at the scandal. “But that didn’t stop you on the Thunder Child.”
WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?
Shhh.
YOU ARE TALKING TOO MUCH TO HIM. TALK TO ME.
Buruu nudged her with his beak, almost knocking her over.
In a minute!
Yukiko held out the mushrooms to Kin, nodding encouragement. His sigh was soft and distorted. Peering around out of a ridiculous notion that someone might be watching, he worked the clasps on his helmet. The throat unfolded again, interlocking plates unfurling, a pretty, metallic ballet. The metal made a crisp, grinding sound, as if two blades were rubbing against each other. She heard a dry sucking noise as Kin pulled the helmet off and stowed it under his arm, the lengths of segmented cable spilling from its mouth rasping against each other. He took a mushroom from her outstretched palm and popped it between his teeth, chewing tentatively. He made a face, uncertain, but ate another nonetheless.
“They taste . . . odd.” He shook his head.
“The Iishi’s own recipe,” Yukiko smiled. “Pure as can be.”
“That’s something at least.”
“Why is the Guild so afraid of coming into contact with lotus anyway?”
“It clouds thought. Pollutes consciousness. We must remain untainted. Impartial. So we can govern its use correctly.” He touched his brow again and shrugged. “Skin is strong, flesh is weak.”
“But you’re fine with the rest of us sucking it down? Becoming tainted by it?”
“Me?” He blinked at her. “This isn’t me we’re talking about. I don’t make these rules.”
“But you follow them.”
“When I have to. We all bow to somebody, Yukiko-chan. Or did you travel up here hunting thunder tigers of your own volition?”
WHAT ARE YOU TALKING TO HIM ABOUT?
Shhh. I’ll tell you soon.
“So you’ve never smoked it? Never touched it?”
He was silent for a long moment. When he spoke, his voice was hesitant, soft.
“. . . Only once.”
He placed the helmet back on, scanning the swaying green, the curtain of rain. His eye was aglow, her reflection crawling on the lens, a distorted scarlet portrait.
“We’d best be off. Your friend looks hungry.”
He started clomping through the brush. Yukiko and Buruu followed.
I DO NOT LIKE HIM.
Yukiko smiled to herself.
Are you jealous?
HE TALKS TOO MUCH. SCREECHING HURTS MY EARS. HIS VOICE SOUNDS LIKE RUTTING MONKEYS. AND HE IS THIN. PASTY.
You are jealous!
FOOLISHNESS. I AM ARASHITORA. HE IS HUMAN. WEAK. PUNY.
Well, good, there’s nothing to be jealous of. He’s just a strange boy. He’s harmless.
TELL THAT TO THE SPARROWS WHO FALL CHOKING FROM THE SKIES. THE FISH DROWNING IN BLACK RIVERS. TELL IT TO THE BONES OF MY FOREFATHERS.
Buruu growled, so low and deep that she could feel the vibration in her chest.
HE AND ALL HIS KIND ARE POISON.
Yukiko said nothing, and Buruu fell into a sullen and uneasy silence. The trio stumbled on through the downpour, each lost in their own thoughts. Lightning arced overhead, turning the world to brilliant white for split seconds at a time, clear and pure. But the gloom in its wake seemed all the more black for that moment’s clarity, darker than if the light had never been.