Forming a Triad

 

“What do you say? Want to be our reaver?” And without giving her a chance to respond, he launched into a list of reasons they didn’t need an intermediary.

She looked him over while she heard him out.

Akira was several centimeters shorter than Kimiko. He’d been quick to make himself comfortable—top button undone, sleeves rolled up, hands in pockets. Not that they stayed there. He gestured a lot with them and tended to go up on tiptoe when making a point. It all gave him a buoyant, enthusiastic air.

Kimiko liked him. But this decision—like so many others—wasn’t truly hers to make. Bracing herself for disappointment, she sought Suuzu’s gaze.

Unlike his friend, the phoenix gave away very little. His reserve was imposing, and this close, Kimiko could actually sense a little of the strength he held in check. Suuzu was only a shade taller than she was and very slender. Brown skin, a hooked nose, and black hair that showed signs of product and combing … and a lack of cooperation. Kimiko hoped her smile wouldn’t be misunderstood, but she couldn’t help cheering on those rebel curls. They softened the intimidating young male’s strict demeanor.

Akira rocked back and forth on his heels. “Do you have a name?”

“Kimiko Miyabe.” She belatedly offered her palms. “Do you think we can get along, Suuzu Farroost?”

“You do not offend my eyes, nor do you offend my senses.” His hands settled over hers, hot and dry. “In truth, I did not notice you.”

“Suuzu!” Akira punched his friend’s arm and hissed, “She’s a girl! And she’s a reaver. Even I know that’s kinda rude.”

Akira was worried about her feminine sensibilities? This was the first time any guy had ever tried to defend her honor. Hardly necessary, but kind of cute.

Bewilderment settled on Suuzu’s features, his strikingly orange eyes widening. And for the first time, he looked young.

Akira folded his arms over his chest and gruffly muttered, “Apologize to Kimi.”

An increasingly flustered phoenix angled his face away, assuming a posture of regret. “I have been thoughtless. Please forgive my words. They were unnecessarily sharp.”

“It’s okay.” Kimiko managed a small smile. “I rank pretty low, so Amaranthine don’t usually register my presence when there are brighter souls around.”

“Really?” Akira looked to Suuzu for confirmation. “Is that how it works?”

The phoenix’s gaze sharpened, and Kimiko consciously slowed her breathing and relaxed her posture. Trust. Because there was little else she could offer. She’d passed her certification for tending during her first year at Ingress Academy, but hers wasn’t the sort of soul that attracted interest. No one ever came to her for tending. But reavers of low ranking were encouraged to learn their limitations so they could work safely within them.

Kimiko hadn’t been tapped by any of the High Amaranthine on campus, so she’d presented herself to the many Kith fostered at Ingress. Retired from active service, these were aged beasts whose limbs had grown creaky and whose sight was dimming. But their minds were sharp, and their wordless guidance had strengthened Kimiko’s self-possession.

Suuzu finally said, “Not the brightest soul in this room, but certainly the brightest in our group.”

Akira blinked, then burst out laughing. “There you have it, Kimi! You’re our one and only reaver.”

The phoenix gestured toward their table. “I will accept Kimiko Miyabe for your sake.”

“Mine?” Akira led the way across the room. “How come she’s mine?”

“You are in need of information a reaver possesses.”

“And you’re not?”

Suuzu pulled out a chair for his friend. “If I have questions, I will pose them.”

“Kimi’s not just a resource, you know.” Akira waved her over and made her sit in his chair. “We’re friends now.”

The phoenix quietly took a seat.

Although he hadn’t said a word, Akira frowned. “Oh, come on. I’m not asking you to take her as a nestmate or anything.”

Kimiko knew—in the textbook way of knowing—that Amaranthine of the bird clans were slow to trust. She wasn’t about to rush Suuzu, but Akira wasn’t half so reticent. He was already calling her Kimi.

“We’re a triad.” Akira glanced at the front of the room before flipping his chair around and straddling it backwards. “You heard Hisoka-sensei. We’re supposed to be setting a good example for the whole world.”

Suuzu sighed.

“We’ve talked about this.” Akira flapped a hand. “We’re still roommates—nestmates. That won’t change just because we make other friends.”

Now that was interesting. Kimiko asked, “You consider Akira to be a nestmate?”

“He is mine.” Suuzu’s voice lowered. “He understands it as a bond of brotherhood.”

Intrigued, she turned to the boy. “Hajime-kun, are you familiar with the nuances of such a pledge? An honor like this isn’t given lightly, nor is it ever revoked.”

“Fine by me.” Akira grinned. “I like knowing he’ll stick around forever. I’m an orphan, you know. So this is a big deal for me, having someone to rely on. Suuzu will always be here for me.”

For the first time, Kimiko thought she understood why the world still needed reavers. Because even two friends, with all kinds of trust and loyalty already established, could miss nuances of meaning. She turned to Suuzu and jumbled several signals—confusion, sympathy, apology, and a willingness to mediate.

Even though she hardly knew what she meant, Suuzu seemed to understand. “Enough, reaver. It is enough.”

And with that Kimiko decided that she liked this young phoenix. He’d given a human boy something rare and precious. Even if Akira didn’t understand everything, he expected to remain friends with Suuzu his whole life. Over time, and with the learning he’d receive here at New Saga, maybe Akira would move past the limits of impressions and assumptions … into the realm of true understanding.

“Partners?” Kimiko stretched across the table, offering them each a hand.

“Friends.” Akira went one better, locking his fingers around her wrist and reaching for Suuzu.

The phoenix completed the link, and although he offered no words, Kimiko felt the tentative brush of his presence against her soul. Feather-light and friendly.

The gentle intimacy filled her with the awe of discovery. Yet there was something hauntingly familiar about that fleeting connection. If only she could remember why.