Tenma sighed. As much as he disliked the label, it fit better than apprentice. Anyone who’d ever seen his attempts at pottery knew that Goh didn’t keep him around for his artistic abilities. Hardly a night went by that Tenma wasn’t cradled in the monkey clansman’s arms, for Goh had picked up where Hanoo, Yoota, and Ploom left off. Nurturing and protecting the glimmer they’d discovered in his soul.
“He was my teacher at school.” Tenma felt bad for stealing Goh away from New Saga. But he was immensely grateful for the monkey clansman’s steady presence. He was a patient teacher, a capable protector, and a father figure for both him and Inti. Changing their friendship into brotherhood. Making them a tribe.
“And now you are his pet?”
“More or less.”
While the term first struck him as insulting, Tenma had learned that it was neither demeaning nor derogatory. In Amaranthine culture, a close-kept human was referred to by a word that didn’t translate exactly. Pet was close, since it implied choice and care and companionship. But also elevation and acknowledgement, in the sense that some people treated their pets like people. Which really did sound insulting unless you looked at it from the Amaranthine point of view.
Tenma only understood because Isla and Lapis had taken the time to explain.
Goh had no formal claim over him, yet he’d sworn a weighty oath to the Five. To help Tenma get to the places he’d need to visit. Quietly. So he could do his thing without raising interest or attention. Except he always did.
The Amaranthine seemed to be waiting for more, so Tenma added, “We get along.”
“Your classification?”
An inquisitive one. This never went well. Tenma shook his head. “No specialization.”
“Aptitudes?”
“Not sigilcraft.” It was a weak joke and a weaker deflection.
“An artisan like your mentor? No?” He edged closer and lowered his voice. “You must be sweet and nestle well.”
Tenma doubted this was the appropriate time to point out that Amaranthine of the monkey clans tangled. “I really couldn’t say.”
“You don’t have to say. I already know.” Fingertips lifted his chin. “The mysterious Mister Subaru, honorary Starmark, apprentice to Lord Mossberne, and emissary to the clans. Word has it, your tending is more than sweet. It’s salvific.”
He couldn’t deny any of it. Any more than he was allowed to confirm it. “Are you teasing me?”
“A little.” The Amaranthine sat beside him, hands folded, gaze intent. “Ask me why.”
“Why are you teasing me?”
He chuckled huskily. “Are you always this obedient?”
“Yes?”
“Sure about that?”
Tenma shook his head.
“I know you would have gotten around to asking eventually, but let’s skip along, shall we? Salali Fullstash. We’re lending a hand with security while the chief is out of commission.” Beckoning to the blue avian, who flew to a perch atop Salali’s hat, he added, “This one’s Gent. He’s Kith. A blue jay.”
“And you …?”
“A bit of a stray, though I’ll own to being a squirrel. Currently unencumbered by house or clan, mate or progeny. Much like yourself. Ask me how I know.”
Tenma hunched his shoulders. “How did you know I’m still single?”
“Would you believe me if I said it’s written in your scent?”
Although Amaranthine senses were unusually keen, Tenma knew their limits. He shook his head. “Did you talk to Goh-sensei?”
“No, but Glint did, and I happened to be nearby. So I heard about your upcoming nuptial tour.”
He sighed and nodded. Really, there was nothing to say.
Theories abounded, but a consensus had yet to be reached as to why Tenma was able to mend the Broken. But everyone agreed that a gift like his should be preserved. Which was reaver-speak for producing a bunch of heirs. Although he’d overheard Hisoka lobbying hard for another means to their ends. Something about a golden seed.
“You are eager to secure a bride?”
Tenma said, “That’s the plan. I’ll travel to several enclaves. Participate in marriage meetings. They may place me in one of the outlying settlements.”
“Are you always this obedient?” Salali repeated, a gentle taunt.
“Yes.” He’d set the condition that had led to these arrangements, so he couldn’t very well complain. “There are … reasons.”
“So you’ll go where you’re told, do as you’re told? Accept their plans for you?”
He looked away. “It’s not as if I had any plans of my own.”
“Very nice. So will you go along with mine?”
“Eh?”
“My plans for you.” Salali had developed a mad twinkle. “Come with me. I’ll show you a good place. We can do nice things there.”
Tenma asked, “Are you teasing me again?”
“Even more than last time.” The clansman smiled. “Have you worked out yet if you’ll trust me? By all means, by any means, investigate the matter to your heart’s content.”
Permission.
This person really did know more than he should.
Forming a hand sign that begged for secrecy, he lowered his voice to ask, “Did you know there are all different kinds of blue? It’s the moodiest color.”
Salali rolled his eyes to indicate Gent. “Tell me about it.”
With a sharp call, the blue jay beat his wings and might have stolen Salali’s hat if the squirrel hadn’t grabbed its brim with both hands.
“Is that what you see, Tenma Subaru?” he asked. “Am I a moody blue?”
Tenma was getting better at putting the things he saw into words. At helping people to understand the difference between what he saw and what it meant about them. So he dared to ask, “How long have you been friends?”
Salali sobered. “Long while. And then some.”
“That’s why.” Tenma studied the bird for a few moments and smiled. “Gent’s blue is a part of you now, and he’s taken on your hue. May I ask a personal question?”
“Go on, then.”
“Is your blaze a reddish-purple?” The squirrel’s expression was answer enough, and Tenma nodded. “When it’s bondmates, the colors usually blend, creating a whole new one. But with longtime friends, they trade. As if they’re each most on the other’s mind.”
“You are not the first to notice,” Salali said softly. As if he’d already known.
Tenma pushed at his glasses, trying to think. All this time, had the answers been here in Wardenclave? None of the clans had a record of someone like him. Oh, but … oh. Salali had said he had no clan. “You know about my secret?”
“First rule of keeping secrets is not letting anyone know you have one.”
It was a little like a taunt, but a little like confirmation.
Salali casually asked, “Who sees the unseen world in colors?”
“Only me.”
“Wrong.”
Tenma couldn’t believe it. Finally! “You know what I am? Are there others like me here?”
“Not here.” He lifted a finger. “Not yet. But she’s on her way.”