Crescent Moon Fan Fiction ❯ Sublunary ❯ Surface Tension ( Chapter 5 )

That's right, more music! Far Shout,(CHOBA) I'm Going Slightly Mad (Queen)

AN: Yargh. I know, long time, no update. I won't bore you with the tale of how Murphy's Law came to rule Chez Tennyo for the past month. The major cause for the delay: I had to replace my computer. I'm still not happy with this chapter, it reads sort of flat to me, but here you go! (Really, I'm not holding the story hostage, I just hate putting something up until I'm satisfied with it.)

A small room, no more than five or six mats large, lit by a single square lantern. The princess, her hair unbound as it would only be in her own rooms, rested her head against the demon's chest. "They will come," she whispered. "Alone, my father would not search for me overlong-- he has other daughters," she finished with a touch of bitterness. "Yet the Emperor will send his own men to join the search, and my father dare not falter before them."

"Do you believe I cannot protect you?" the demon said, stroking her hair. His claws shone in the pale light, gleaming like polished stones. His hand slid to her shoulder, along her silk-clad arm to curve over her swollen abdomen. "Or our child?"

"Beloved, I can believe you are as Bishamon-ten himself at need--but an army is still an army, and we are alone."

"Your time draws near. It disturbs your thoughts." The demon held her close, the two of them at the edge of the lantern's pool of light. "Trust in me. I have not failed one of my sacred trusts-- and I hold you as precious as any treasure in any world."

The princess did not speak, but she put her hand over the demon's. Her expression of fearful sorrow did not fade. The shadows around them deepened, until the lantern's glow faded entirely.

A burst of pain jolted Mahiru awake. She shifted onto her back, cradling her bruised wrist to her chest. She'd rolled onto her side, pinning her bruised wrist between her body and the mattress. She frowned at the blue glow hovering nearby. What happened to the lantern? She blinked, and the glow resolved itself into the luminous face of the clock beside her bed. Three a.m., she noted with a groan. She had to get up in two hours. Her wrist throbbed.

Wait, she had some aspirin in her purse. If she took some, maybe she could get back to sleep. Her over-full days made sleep too precious to lose. Getting out of bed, she found her purse and the small metal box she carried her aspirin in. Something tickled the back of her mind, something about aspirin and blood donating, but she was too tired to focus.

After what had happened at the marina, she'd expected to feel different, somehow. Instead, she only felt tired, a familiar fatigue she fought off once a month with mega doses of caffeine and sugar. Ugh, she thought, slogging down the hall. Want sleeeeeep...

In the washroom, she reached for a glass, filling it with water. The light above the mirror felt too bright, so she turned it off, leaving only the tiny courtesy light glowing by the door. She felt split in two, one part of her moving easily in the modern room, the other part still drifting in that other-world where only paper lanterns held back the fullness of night.

Maybe I should be trying to wake up, she thought uneasily, instead of going back to sleep. Each time she dreamed of the princess and the demon, or saw into the underwater world, it became harder and harder to pull all of herself back. Maybe she should tell the others...? No, she decided, remembering how they'd all laughed when she'd confessed her fear in the park. This is probably the same kind of thing. Just something I need to get used to, like the others' transformed bodies.

She looked down at the glass she held, saw the surface of the water shiver, taking on a pale blue tint, a shadow of a waving sea frond-- Mahiru popped the aspirin tablets and washed them down with the entire glass. She rinsed the glass and returned it to its place, giving the mundane chore more attention than it needed. If she concentrated on little things, her vision slipped less.

I came here to help, and to learn more about this power, the dreams. She'd helped them regain some of their lost treasure, but she didn't know much more than when she started. Strange... Master Oboro had been eager to tell her about the Lunar Race-- at least the ones she lived with. Nothing about himself, nothing about the rest of his people, or that 'Moon Palace' they came from. Mahiru frowned.

They wanted her to trust them, why didn't they trust her? Still frowning, she started back to her room, only half-noticing the shadows of fish gliding along the walls. She caught the sound of low voices from behind one of the other doors.

Nozomu! Mahiru clutched at the neck of her pajama top, feeling hot and cold at the same time. That was his room. She'd always known, but now, knowing where he slept felt different somehow. A distant sea... no longer distant.

She wasn't sure one could run silently, but she gave it her best shot.

Inside her own room, Koumori-chan's bright, beady eyes reflected the low light. "You keep quiet!" she hissed at him. "I was here thewhole time, got it?"

*chu?* the bat squeaked from his perch.

Furry little extortionist,she thought. "Okay! I'll bring you some fruit tomorrow, cut small, just for you."

*chu!* The bright eyes closed, and she heard the soft, slithery sound of the creature's wings pulling tighter around itself.

I wonder if Nozomu knows what little greedy-guts they are, she thought with a grin. Koumori-chan would do just about anything for a melon cube. Back in bed, she plumped up her pillow, shivering a little as the sweat from her quick dash down the hall cooled on her skin. Those 'threads' Nozomu talked about- -she thought she could feel them, a little. She'd certainly felt the first one fray. Opportunity... auspice... blessing... Were they like the red threads of the old stories, or something more mundane? If everyone who'd ever taken her luck had a tie to her, then she was already stretched wafer-thin between humans and the Lunar Race.

A sudden thought made her gasp and clutch her pillow. What if every time a human took her luck, it took that blessing away from the Lunar Race? This'megumi no tsuki' she possessed benefited humans even as it gave strength to the Lunar Race. No... She remembered being mobbed by a group of anxious girls at school the evening of the dinner cruise--and she'd still woken the moon for all the others with no difficulty. Well, no more difficulty than being bounced around like a rubber ball. And I was in a skirt! she remembered, mortified. She decided to start wearing her gym shorts under her uniform, no matter what.

She flopped down on her bed. Did easy answers exist only in stories? Maybe that was why so many of them were wrong.

Mahiru closed her eyes, trying to organize her thoughts. They kept skittering around, like leaves in a strong wind. Why did the blessing work on both races, when only one needed it? Why were the dreams changing? Why had these members of the Lunar Race really sought her out?

Mahiru frowned. She didn't like that question- -it implied the others knew more about her, about her powers and just what it meant to be the Descendant of the Princess than they had told her. It meant, despite the worlds she could see in the water, there were still worlds and walls between her and the people she lived and worked beside. And she had no idea how to cross that divide.

She rolled over, hoping to escape her disturbing thoughts. She drowsed, just relaxing in the quiet. The darkness behind her eyes grew heavier, thicker, almost tangible. She saw flickers of light ahead, pale yellow and orange, not the brilliance of the Teardrop. She caught the acrid scent of lamp oil, felt air moving over her cheeks.

Banners fluttered and snapped in the cold wind. Light struck gold off the spear-points, reflected dully off the armor of the warriors below. An army, an army whose hatred and fear spread before them like a miasma, tainting the air.

A never-ending hallway., stretching out into an eternity of shadow, with just the dim pools of lamplight to serve as a guide. She had to keep running. Behind her lay only the madness of grief and sorrow. To stop meant capture, dishonor, betrayal. So run... Run, and pray!

The alarm shrilled, shattering the half-dream before it could root itself more deeply. Mahiru sat bolt-upright, already reaching out to smack the alarm off. Five a.m. Time to get up. Yet she sat for a moment, resting her head on her hand. That last dream-fragment... had it been just a regular dream? Chase-dreams were so normal, even dogs and cats had them.

A regular dream, she decided, mixed up with all the things that'd been happening to her. She should be glad to have a normal dream, and quit stressing over every little image that winked through her head. Because if she started doing that, she might--

Time to get up, she thought, pushing the blankets aside.

Mahiru dug through her through the side pocket of her satchel. Stupid thing... I know it's in here somewhere! The elastic bandage wrapped around her wrist made it more difficult. The bruise from Nozomu's feeding had bloomed into something the size and shape of an overripe plum thanks to the aspirin she'd taken. Her wrist had swollen a bit as well. Even worse, it was her writing hand. She should've paid more attention last night.

Last night... Mahiru blushed, hugging her satchel as if it were a shield. By the water, it had felt right to give some of her blood to Nozomu. Now, she wondered if she'd done something improper, immodest. One more for the list of things that confused her.

She shook her head and dug through her satchel again. At the very bottom, she found a battered plastic phone card printed with a fanciful underwater scene of dolphins and whales. She traced one of the dolphin's fins with a forefinger. Just what were her feelings about all this?

I like them, she thought. All of them, even Mitsuru.In the short amount of time she'd lived at the Moonshine, her knowledge of the Lunar Race had changed how she saw her own world. She couldn't pass a shrine with a guardian fox statue without thinking of Misoka. When the wind kicked up, she automatically looked for Mitsuru. While she ate out with her friends, she couldn't help but compare it with Akira's cooking. Katsura and Master Oboro were more distant, but still very kind. Her aunt had tried to fill in all the empty spaces her lack of family made in Mahiru's life, but there was only so much one woman could do.

The people at the Moonshine... filled more of those empty spaces. As confused and scared and angry as it all made her, she wasn't sure she could give it up.

Nozomu... Nozomu belonged in a whole different category of confusing. Akira called him a flirt, leaving her wondering if his attentions were real, or just an act. For the first time, she wondered what would happen when all the Teardrops had been found. Would they go back to that 'Moon Palace' and leave her alone again? The Lunar Race had apparently been going along quite well without having a Descendant of the Princess around.

And now she was back to wondering what being their 'princess' really meant. Hopefully, this afternoon, she might get some answers. Mahiru placed her call, wincing when she heard the balance left on the card. She'd have to get a new one, soon.

"You've reached the Moonshine. We appreciate your call. We apologize, but we are not open for business at this time. If you would care to leave a message, please do so after the tone."

She waited through the tone- -a series of bell-like sounds- -then launched into her message. "It's Mahiru. I have to stop at the library, so I'm going to be late, so please don't worry. I'll be back before it's time to open."

She hung up, rather relieved she'd gotten the answering machine and not a person. A person might've asked her questions like, what she planned on doing at the library that would take so much time. Unless Mitsuru answered, in which case he'd probably just hang up on her with a muttered, "So what?"

I don't want to keep things from them--but they're keeping things from me. I need a better idea of what's happening to me. She didn't dare check out any materials to bring back with her- -what if one of the others saw? More questions, that's what would happen. She had to admit, she was afraid of some of the answers, afraid to discover their kindness had all been a lie, made up for expediency. If they were lying, just using her for her luck, it would hurt less to learn it from an impersonal text, and not from the lips of people she had begun to think of as more like family than friends.

This is where I first met Nozomu, she remembered, entering the library from the main entrance. And Misoka. She didn't think it was an accident. Mitsuru must have told them about meeting her at the marina, and they'd come looking for her. Misoka even knew my name.

"And all the other things you've wondered about? Things you know separate you from everyone else?"

Yes. She wanted to know. 'So somewhere along the way, we all learned what it was and what it was not to be of the moon.' Except she was human, not 'of the moon.' Maybe the others didn't have any answers to give her. Maybe she had to learn on her own.

She headed straight for the computerized library catalog. The last time she'd done this, she'd ended up with a stack of books she could barely carry. This time, she intended to begin her search in a different direction. Placing the cursor in the search bar, she typed in, 'lunar legends OR moon myths'.

The library catalog produced a daunting list of titles. Taking a deep breath, Mahiru settled in to refine her search. After almost half an hour, she'd whittled the list down into something manageable. List in hand, she made for the stacks.

Time seemed to run along different tracks in a library. An hour passed, then another, while Mahiru lost herself in a world she never knew existed. In story after story, from The Tale of the Bamboo Cutter to The Rabbit of the Moon, she read about humans interacting with non-humans. In a retelling of The Feather Robe, she found one tantalizing tidbit:

'Then the maiden replied, "I will dance it here -- the dance that makes the Palace of the Moon turn round, so that even poor transitory man may learn its mysteries. But I cannot dance without my feathers."

'"No," said the fisherman suspiciously. "If I give you this robe, you will fly away without dancing before me."

'This remark made the maiden extremely angry.

'"The pledge of mortals may be broken," said she, "but there is no falsehood among the heavenly beings."

'These words put the fisherman to shame, and, without more ado, he gave the maiden her robe of feathers.

'When the maiden had put on her pure white garment she struck a musical instrument and began to dance, and while she danced and played she sang of many strange and beautiful things concerning her faraway home in the moon. She sang of the mighty Palace of the Moon, where thirty monarchs ruled, fifteen in robes of white when that shining orb was full, and fifteen robed in black when the moon was waning. As she sang and played and danced she blessed Japan, "that earth may still her proper increase yield!"

'The fisherman did not long enjoy this kindly exhibition of the Moon Lady's skill, for very soon her dainty feet ceased to tap upon the sand. She rose into the air, the white feathers of her robe gleaming against the pine trees or against the blue sky itself. Up, up she went, still playing and singing, past the summits of the mountains, higher and higher, until her song was hushed, until she reached the glorious Palace of the Moon.'

Mahiru chewed her lower lip thoughtfully. This was the first story that mentioned a 'Palace of the Moon.' Was it the same one Master Oboro spoke of? Well, there's the singing and the dancing, and the hint that both are like holy acts. That fits in with what Master Oboro and the others have told me. Other things didn't fit, though.

One thing most of the stories had in common was a depressingly dualistic viewpoint: either humans were stupid, greedy misers who never kept their word and abused the gifts of Heaven, or the victims of mischief by a non-human.

There were other stories with princesses who had otherworldly suitors as well, but none of those ended happily. Either the magical being died, or the human found he was being deceived, or made the butt of a prank. Even the story of the Weaver Star ended on a sad note, with the two lovers able only to meet once a year.

It seemed that both sides accepted that other worlds existed, with other beings, but that the two really shouldn't mix. Except that they did. 'We have both loved and hated the human race.' She closed the last of her books with a snap. So what about people like me? People who are different, but still human? The stories almost never talked about people like that--and when they did, it wasn't in nice terms. Where do we fit--under the Sun, or the Moon? A chill chased itself down her spine. Maybe we don't belong anywhere.

She thought of the hallway she'd dreamt of, painted in light and shadow. A hallway wasn't a room in a house, or a garden, or a wild place beyond walls. It was a between-place.

She started to look at her watch, then remembered it was on the other wrist. She'd been in here for almost three hours! She had to hurry if she wanted to get back in time. Mahiru gathered up the books she'd used and started for the return cart.

"Shiraishi-san."

Mahiru started, then grabbed for her books before they could spill to the floor. "Hi-Himura-san?"

The taller girl brushed back her dark hair. She wore it long and loose, without even a ribbon to tie it back. Doesn't it get in her way like that? Mahiru wondered inanely. She wore her own hair in a short bob, perfect for fitting under a swim cap, but not so good for catching boys' attention. She'd seen how the boys watched Keiko Himura. She made even the school uniform look like something a fashion model would wear.

"I didn't expect to find you here," Himura continued.

Mahiru weighed that for a moment, wondering if she should be insulted. Okay, she wasn't an honor student, but she went to a good school, and she did well enough that college wasn't a fool's dream. She adjusted her grip on the books she held, holding them so the covers and spines couldn't be seen.

"I have a... club project due soon. If I don't get started on it now, I'll never finish in time."

Himura frowned. "What kind of project would the Swim Club do that needed books?"

Rats! I should've said it was an extra-credit report for--no, she's in the same class, she'd have picked up on that even faster!

"Safety!" she blurted out. "Safety and lifesaving techniques! It's very important, in the athletic clubs, to make sure you know the most recent techniques and procedures!" Wow, that almost sounds like something the club president would say...

Apparently, Himura agreed with her, for the faint glimmer of interest faded from her eyes. "Oh. Well. Be careful carrying those books, you might make that sprain worse."

"Oh, I will. Was.. was there something you wanted?"

"Oh..." Himura brushed at her hair again. "I was just surprised to see you. I come here a lot, and I've never seen you here before. I wondered if I'd missed an assignment notice, or something."

Beautiful *and* smart, Mahiru thought glumly. Not fair.

"People usually leave me alone here," Himura added.

Mahiru took a second look at her classmate. Keiko Himura had a reputation for arrogance and aloofness. If she had any friends, no-one knew who they were. She never acknowledged any of the attentions the boys paid her. Now that I think of it... I always see her alone. She never hangs around in the classroom after school to talk, she never eats lunch with anyone. If she belongs to any clubs, I've never heard about it. So why would she *need* a place to be alone?

"Um, well..." Mahiru hesitated, not sure how to respond. Maybe... she's lonely?

"I'm sorry for disturbing you," Himura said, stepping back. All trace of interest had faded, leaving her as blank and expressionless as a store mannequin.

"Himura-san?"

The other girl paused, not quite looking back.

"If... if you ever need... to borrow notes, or something, you can ask me. I don't mind."

Himura remained silent so long that Mahiru began to mentally kick herself. Stupid... she probably wasn't asking for anything.

"Thank you, Shiraishi-san. I'll remember that. If you'll please excuse me?"

Mahiru watched the other girl walk away, then sighed. Maybe now wasn't the best time to try and make new friends, not when she had secrets to protect. Besides, the last person she'd tried to make friends with had been Mitsuru, and look how that was turning out. I feel kind of bad for her, Mahiru thought, placing her books on the cart to be re-shelved. Maybe, when this is over... Hefting her satchel, she headed out, passing the 'Please turn off your cell phone' notices on either side of the doorway.

Outside, a familiar figure waited for her near the bike racks. He raised a hand in greeting. A faint sense of deja-vu swept over her, making her feel a bit dizzy. Her heartrate bumped up. She felt like she'd just surfaced from being underwater and taken that first deep breath. That single moment, without intruding thoughts or feelings, when everything was perfect and timeless.

"Nozomu!" She picked up her pace, hurrying towards him. "Were you waiting here the whole time? I'm sorry, you didn't have to come get me. I would've made it back okay."

He smiled and her heart did that funny kind of flopover in her chest.

"I haven't been here that long. I thought you'd appreciate seeing me instead of Mitsuru."

Mahiru ducked her head. "Uh... yeah. He really doesn't like taking me around."

He casually slung an arm around her shoulders. "Hmph. And I thought you might want to see me because I'm me, not just because I'm not Mitsuru."

"I'm sorry! I didn't mean it like that! Of course I'm--"

He laughed, squeezing her shoulders. She almost stumbled in surprise. "Relax, sweetie. I'm teasing."

She blushed, both at the endearment and the fact that they were walking down a public street like this, like a couple. A pretty strange couple at that, she thought ruefully. She still wore her high school uniform, while Nozomu looked older, like a college student. Okay, a college student who dressed a bit like a popstar, but still older than her. And with that blond hair, and that accent, nobody's going to think he's my brother!

"So what sent you to the library this time?" he asked as they walked.

"Stories," she said. "Like before."

He remained quiet for a time. "You can't believe everything that's written in old stories, Mahiru."

"I know that. My whole life feels like a story, now." I just hope it has a better ending! "I... wanted to know things."

"Things about us?" Nozomu asked quietly.

"Not... really. I found lots of stories- -" she hesitated, wondering just how she could explain without revealing too much in public. "Stories like The Feather Robe, where a human has a family with... someone who isn't. I wanted to know if the stories said anything about those children, about what happened to them. But I couldn't find anything."

Nozomu came around to face her, his hand still resting on her shoulder. "Mahiru-chan," He paused, tilting his head to the side. "Are you having regrets ?"

Did he mean regrets about what happened at the marina, or about helping them in general? "No. Just questions."

He studied her face for a long moment. For the first time, Mahiru wondered exactly what he and the others saw when they looked at her. She had only one face, one form. Did that make her ugly or freakish to them? Would she ever have the courage to ask?

He nodded slowly, and they started walking again. "You could just ask us, you know," he said.

"You make it sound easy, but I don't even know what to ask. And if there's one thing all the stories say, it's that you have to be careful of what you say and how you say it."

"Because otherwise you won't get the truth?" Nozomu's voice sounded tight again.

Mahiru winced. D'oh! He's awfully sensitive, today! Though I probably could have said that better. "No! Just--it's things you know, and things I know, and we both think the other person knows them, but we don't. Know what I mean?"

"I... think so. But Mahiru-chan, if you don't ask us, how will we ever learn you didn't know?"

She thought about that for a moment. "Oh."

He sighed, put his arm around her shoulders again. Mahiru let him draw her closer to his side, and never mind what anyone else thought. She'd upset him somehow, and this seemed to make him feel better.

Made her feel better, too, but if she thought about it too much, that blush might become permanent.

"I was on my way back from the WPF grounds when Katsura called and told me where you were," Nozomu added in a lower voice. "We're pretty much set there. We just need you to point the way."

Mahiru clenched both hands around the handle of her satchel. Maybe all the strangeness was taking its toll, but Nozomu's words hurt.

"Mahiru-chan?"

Without looking up, she murmured, "Is that all you need me for?"

"Mahiru."

Startled by his tone, she raised her head. Nozomu looked strained and tense again. His hand, still on her shoulder, tightened until she winced. His grip relaxed, but it was an obvious effort.

"I can't answer that now. The job comes first, it has to, because of what's at stake. But I promise you," he said, drawing close again, "when there's time, I'll answer all your questions."

"All of them?" she challenged. "Even the ones you think I don't know to ask?"

To her surprise, Nozomu chuckled, the tension smoothing out of his face. "The first thing my father taught me was to never underestimate a woman's knowledge--or to ever think I knew exactly what was on her mind."

She relaxed a little. He's never mentioned his parents, before. I only know about them from what Master Oboro told me. Akira, Misoka, Mitsuru... they all lost their parents. Is it the same for Nozomu, too?

She shoved the thought away. She didn't like to think about those things, it made her too sad, brought back too many memories. "Are the WPF grounds far?" she asked.

"No. We should be able to get there in plenty of time." Nozomu paused. "I should've asked--are you up for this? You're not too tired, are you?"

Mahiru ducked her head to hide her smile. Now this was the Nozomu she knew. "I'll be okay."

Mahiru stood on the rooftop with the others and watched the festival grounds burn. The escape from the festival grounds had passed in a panicked blur of firelight and smoke, shouts and screams. The canvas tents were charred ruins now, only their frames and supports lasting long enough to keep burning. Someone, she thought with odd detachment, is in big trouble. Canvas for tents that size, for public use, were supposed to be treated with fire-resistant chemicals. Though she supposed no-one had taken a pissed-off tengu into the equation.

She'd never seen the others look so shaken up. Even in their human forms, they looked worn out, a testimony to the strength of the attacks launched by those two strange young men. She shivered, hugging herself. The recovered Teardrop pressed against her heart. She'd believed the police had been their only real concern, the reparations to those who unknowingly held stolen goods the only worry. But those guys...

"The world of today has no need for that darkness where your kind takes refuge! We are the Venusians of the eastern sky, from the 'morning star' that signals the break of day."

It was such a pretty concept: the herald of dawn, the promise of a new beginning. Why did they do such ugly things in its name? Mahiru sat down, suddenly too weary to stand. She drew her knees up, wrapped her arms around them, and rested her forehead against them. She couldn't see the fire anymore, but she could still smell the smoke.

"Do you think," she asked, "everyone made it out okay?"

"The festival was closing for the day, Princess," Misoka said.

That's not an answer. She remembered the groups of laughing people she'd passed as she sought the 'black tent.' There'd been families there, children too small to walk alone. And the people who ran the Festival, who cleaned, and set things up. They wouldn't have been getting ready to leave the grounds. They would have been getting ready for work, not knowing the grounds of WPF would become a tinderbox in an eye blink.

She felt a tear splash down, then another, a third, building into a wracking sob that shook her from head to toe.

"Mahiru-chan."

She felt Nozomu's hands on her shoulders--strange, how she knew it was him, how she would have known, even if he hadn't spoken. She couldn't stop crying, though. Too many images, and the smoke had a scent she wished she didn't recognize. She felt physically sick from the hate she'd just witnessed. "The humans have won, you see, and you lost to us long ago."

If being human means hating like that, I don't think I want to be counted as one!

"What're you crying for, dolt?" Mitsuru snapped. "They attacked us. It wasn't even a clean fight, they used traps."

"Shut up, Mitsuru," Nozomu said.

"Stop coddling her, Nozomu. If she's going to be of any use, she's just going to have to toughen up-- and decide which side she's on. You heard them-- this is war, and they mean to wipe us out. And thanks to her, two of them got away."

Mahiru's nails bit into her skin. "Why don't you stop talking like I'm not here, or that I can't hear you? If you can't see what's wrong in killing people," she choked out, "that's not my fault."

Seeing... she saw too much. This world is not the only world. She could see it, in the water. She could see in her dreams how they fractured and fell apart. Why couldn't she see how they fit together? And how could she ever explain it to someone else?

Mitsuru sucked in an angry breath. Before he could speak, Misoka cut in.

"You saved us today, Mitsuru. We owe you one. Let's not waste it by being caught too near a suspicious fire."

"Whatever," Mitsuru muttered under his breath, turning away.

Mahiru wasn't sure she could stand. Nozomu gave her a hand up, and she leaned heavily against him.

"Hey, are you all right?" he asked.

"I'm fine," she said. "Just... don't feel very well."

"Too much smoke," Nozomu decided. "Let's go."

Listlessly, she paged through one of her textbooks. Outside, the day was bright and warm, but the light and warmth never seemed to make it to the places Mitsuru flew. Which could explain a few things, she thought, staring at a diagram.

She glanced up towards the front of the classroom. Earlier, the homeroom teacher had announced the destination of this year's class trip. Nara, Kyoto. The announcement had her friends in a swirl of giddy excitement. Mahiru sighed and looked back down at her book. She wasn't sure she'd be able to go. The others might need her here. They wouldn't let her even go to school on her own. No way would they let her go off to Kyoto alone.

And I haven't been there in so long, not since my grandmother died. She blinked back sudden, unexpected tears. I learned the song from her. My mother knew it, too. That afternoon, when they sang it, it was the last time the whole family was together.

"Heyyyyyyyy, Duckie!"

Startled, Mahiru looked up. Junko and the rest of her friends crowded around Mahiru's desk. Junko threw her arms around Mahiru's neck.

"They're going to group us by drawing lots. C'mon, Mahiru! Give us a little luck, so we don't get split up--and especially that we don't get that Himura snob in our group!"

Mahiru fought the urge to look back and see if Himura had heard. Her desk was only a few rows away. Junko squeezed, half-choking her. "C'mon, Duckie, pleeeease?"

"I--" Well, she couldn't say no, could she? That weird power of hers didn't work like that. The only control she had over who got her luck was in who she let get close enough to touch.

Her skin tingled and Mahiru blushed. Nozomu.

"Hey, Junko, ease up, you're choking her!" one of her other friends protested, mistaking the reason for the color in Mahiru's face.

"Oops! Sorry!" Junko let go. "Let's go put our names in! Mahiru, we'll put yours in, too."

Might as well let them. If I leave it to my luck, I'll get put in a group where everybody hates me--*if* I get to go.

"Spreading good luck again?"

"Huh?" Mahiru looked up in surprise.

Keiko Himura stood in the aisle, not quite next to Mahiru's desk, not as close as a friend might stand. She watched Junko and the others for a moment, then turned her attention back to Mahiru.

"They don't even ask, do they? Or if they do, they don't wait for an answer. Just take what they want, and go."

"That's not true!" Mahiru protested. "They're my friends. And they don't really believe I give them luck. It"s just a stupid story."

"But you like those kinds of stories." Himura held her gaze. "All those books you were looking at. I saw them after you left."

Oh. Oh, damn! She thought she'd been so careful! "Well, they're just stories. Not real."

Himura let out a breath of a laugh. "Stories used to be how people learned things, before we were able to write things down, before literacy was standard and not a rare privilege. There's more truth in the old stories than you might imagine."

This was a strange conversation. "Why do you say that?" Maybe Himura was from a temple family? They tended to pay more attention to things like that than most people.

Himura didn't answer, but placed a thin book on Mahiru's desk. "You might like this story. It's like the ones you were reading. Take your time with it, but I'd like it back when you're done."

Mahiru picked up the book. It was the same one Nozomu had shown her at the library, "The Demon and the Minister of the Left." This copy wasn't a library book, though. The spine was broken, the clothbound cover fraying at the corners. The colors of the cover illustration had faded into drabness. Sheesh. They could at least call it 'The Demon and the Daughter of the Minister of the Left.' That's who it's really about. Himura must be from a shrine family, if she had an old book with a warning tale about not making deals with demons.

"I--"

Himura had returned to her seat and was staring out the window, her chin propped on her hand. Junko and the others came wandering back.

"Say... what'd that Himura want, anyway?" Junko asked.

To know if I'd made a deal with a demon? "Um... she just asked about the reading assignment."

"Typical." Junko flipped her long hair over her shoulder. "Just because she's pretty, she thinks she can treat her classmates like servants. I hope you didn't tell her!"

"Why wouldn't I? Tell her something like that, I mean."

"You're too nice, Duckie. Especially to people who don't deserve it."

The others made agreeing noises. Mahiru looked down. 'They don't even wait for an answer.' Maybe Himura hadn't really been talking to her, but about something that was weighing down her mind. She kinda sounded like Mitsuru, when he goes off on humans using demons, only a lot quieter.

She slipped the book into her satchel. She'd give it back to Himura in a couple of days. Maybe by then she'd have figured out why the girl had offered it to her. Is she trying to be friendly, or is it something else? Something bothering her? What could bother Keiko Himura, though? She was pretty, got good grades, didn't get into trouble, and the teachers didn't seem to dislike her. Well, okay, the other students gave her a hard time, but Himura's icy demeanor didn't help.

Are things ever going to stop being confusing and unreal? Mahiru wondered. 'Culture shock' was what they called it when you had to deal with too many foreign things. Maybe that was what was happening now. It didn't seem fair that she had all this stuff from the Lunar Race to deal with and stuff from the human world.

The teacher came back in, and she stood with the others to greet him. She'd have to think about this later. She didn't want to get a lecture about daydreaming in class.

-tbc-

The other stories mentioned in this chapter are also real folktales. The Tale of the Bamboo Cutter precedes The Tale of Genji as the first written work of fiction we would consider a novel. (I knew that Japanese Literature course would come in handy someday!)