Torn

 

Tenma was feeling very much out of his depth. Having never really had close friends before, he wasn’t sure if he could be a good one to Inti. So far this evening, most of his impulses had been to correct and scold. Like a picky old lady. But he wasn’t trying to tame or change Inti. He wanted to understand his new roommate. That’s why they’d made plans to hang out together, from after classes until curfew.

“Aren’t your feet cold?” asked Tenma.

Inti swarmed up Tenma’s body like a squirrel up a tree. Claiming a seat on his shoulders, the crosser wriggled until his feet were stuffed down the front of Tenma’s coat. Arms and tail settled snuggly. Tenma knew he looked a sight, strolling down the street with a furry tail for a muffler and a monkey-boy for a hat.

“Good?” he asked.

“Warm,” agreed Inti.

“You have shoes, you know.”

Inti gave the low rumble Tenma now recognized as the Inti equivalent of “ick.” Even the slight glaze of ice on Keishi’s sidewalks hadn’t convinced his roommate to use the shoes New Saga provided.

Tenma decided not to mind all the staring, the smiles, and the shy nods. People needed to get used to seeing Amaranthine around town. The Emergence was about living openly. Integration needed to spread beyond the classroom.

Nice in theory. But Inti’s unconventional behavior kept Tenma on his toes. He’d had to apologize a lot for his roommate, who was prone to touch, taste, or take things without invitation.

“How about a quick lesson,” Tenma suggested.

“Again?”

“A little one. About sitting in public.” Tenma pointed to a park bench. “It’s quieter here, so this is a good spot.”

“Inti will listen.” He slid from his perch and bowed. “Teach me, sensei.”

Tenma laughed and took a seat. “Humans have this thing called polite distance.”

Inti cheerfully joined him, pressing snug against his side. “Inti is polite.”

“Too close, Inti. Humans aren’t always comfortable with direct contact. What feels most natural to you may be an imposition for them.”

“You do not smell alarmed.”

Tenma smiled. “We’re friends. This lesson is about strangers. Shall I demonstrate?”

In a barefoot crouch on the bench, Inti watched with bright-eyed interest as Tenma backed up a few steps, then approached. “May I sit here?”

“Sit, sit, sit.”

Tenma left plenty of room between them. “Some people will place items beside them as barriers, like a shopping bag or a book. They’re signaling a preference, but even if they don’t, still give them room.”

“Sitting with strangers.” Inti studied the gap between them. “What about friends.”

“That depends on how close you are.”

Inti lifted a finger. “Classmate, but not Tenma or Quen or Isla.”

Tenma stood, once more backing off and coming forward. “Here you are, Inti! May I join you?”

“Sit, sit, sit, friend.” Inti was enjoying himself.

While Tenma still preserved a polite distance, he changed his body language, slouching back and leaning closer until their shoulders bumped. “How’ve you been?”

Inti grinned. “Hungry.”

Lesson over. They were back to the main theme of their evening out. Tenma hadn’t been able to think of a single form of entertainment that might appeal to Inti … except food. So they’d been wandering through Keishi, stopping frequently to sample fast food and street food and the mysterious delights found in vending machines.

Inti leapt to his cozy perch on Tenma’s shoulders. “You still have coins?”

“Plenty.”

“Tenma is rich?”

“Beyond your wildest dreams.”

Poking at Tenma’s cheek, Inti asked, “Is Tenma teasing?”

“Yes, I’m teasing. But I won’t run out of money for a while yet, even at the rate you eat.”

They found a crepe shop, at which point Tenma learned that Inti was violently opposed to eating banana-anything. On principle.

“Defying stereotypes?” Tenma asked.

“I like what I like,” he mumbled around a mouthful of strawberries and cream.

Tenma definitely appreciated moments like this, when Inti abandoned pretense enough to use personal pronouns. One thing he’d learned at school was how important nuances were to Amaranthine. Little things communicated big ideas—like caution, trust, and friendship.

“Where would you like to go?” Tenma didn’t even try to hide his curiosity. “I mean, what do you usually do when you go out at night?”

Inti licked the last traces of cream from his fingertips and jumped onto Tenma’s shoulders. Tapping the top of his head, he said, “Take me to trees. Someplace to run and climb.”

At the next street corner, Tenma turned homeward, since the best place would be the forest behind their dormitory. Although it was Starmark land, there were no fences or barriers. Maybe some of the Kith in the shelter would like to join Inti in running wild.

Only they didn’t quite make it to campus.

All of a sudden, Inti’s tail whipped out from around Tenma’s shoulders. Overbalanced, he staggered, then made a grab for his roommate’s ankles. Inti was standing on his shoulders, peering off along a darkened side street. Tenma wanted to ask what was happening, but something in the crosser’s attitude told him this wasn’t a silly game.

Inti dropped to the ground and skittered off a short distance, then returned to dance in a circle around Tenma. “Too late, too late,” he muttered. “Too slow.”

Thinking it must be safe to speak since Inti was, Tenma nonetheless kept his voice low. “What’s wrong?”

The only answer he received was more bouncing and fidgeting. Inti’s eyes were perfectly round, and he’d begun gnawing on the end of his tail.

Hauling him close and caging him against his body, Tenma spoke into Inti’s ear. “Tell me.”

“A trigger. A trap. The hunter is coming.”

“You mean the trackers?”

Inti’s softly chanted negative was a like a desperate prayer.

A finger pressed to Tenma’s mouth, begging for silence. Inti’s other hand dove into Tenma’s clothing, picking an inner pocket and coming up with a precious fold of paper. He shuffled back a step and, to Tenma’s horror, ripped Quen’s sigil in two, letting the halves flutter to the ground.

Awareness slammed into Tenma, clawing away his composure. Malicious, greedy, and closing fast—if the oncoming Amaranthine was a hunter, they’d be easy prey.

Inti’s tail snaked around his arm, squeezing tight. Up on tiptoe, he whispered in Tenma’s ear. “We need to run. We need to hide.”

“Yes.”

“You are too slow.”

For a fleeting moment, Tenma thought Inti would leave him behind.

His fear must have shown on his face. Inti’s hand brushed his cheek. “My turn, my friend. I’m stronger than I look.”

A disorienting swoop sent Tenma’s already-queasy stomach plunging, and he found himself clinging helplessly to Inti, who sprang recklessly along the rooftops.