Bubble
Half paying mind to his piece of art via finger paints, he observed the classroom to see the kids focused on their paper or each other or wanting the attention of the human adult in charge, Mrs. Takenaka. A classmate called out his name and he turned to her to keep his ploy of normal human. With a shy smile, she said her own name and inquired what his art was while showing him what she painted on her own easel. Kurama sighed, not seeing the point of bothering with humans more than he had to during his brief stay in this world.
She shivered a bit, rubbing at the goose bumps on her arm and he blinked at the simple act. During his five years as a human, this was the first time he had ever personally seen someone with spiritual energy. It was tiny and in a tiny body, but this young girl may be more open to strange ideas if that continued going off near him. He frowned to himself. She may have caught the sudden alertness on him at that same moment.
"Did you feel that too? That weird feeling just now Shuichi?"
Damn. Feigning disinterest, he turned back to his finger painting. "No."
It was steady, remaining high in his senses. After two years of that other soul remaining off his radar, it came back now on his first day of human schooling? There was no way a disappearance by him on the first day would go unnoticed. He didn't know the school system too well, but if he claimed ill, his human parents would be contacted. Humans had that annoying habit of keeping connections up about everything children did. Then again, he pondered to himself not for the first time, perhaps he should get his human parents familiar with disappearances. His missing case at the age of 10 would not be an immediate concern; there would be a lack of fuss and attention to him. Kurama didn't need others of his kind so familiar with his rebirth and in what creature he took it in, a human.
"It might be because it's the afternoon," his human peer stated her thoughts. "I always seem to get a weird feeling in the afternoon."
That was interesting. A daily ritual, he thought absently. It lessened his hast on finding this other soul. Whoever it was, must be in this area and he lived a good distance from this building, so it was possible they were out of his radar from where he resided as a human. "You live nearby," he asked the small girl. Her face brightened as she nodded, her shyness remaining though.
"Where do you live Shuichi?" She drew a muddy blue circle in the palm of a hand with one of her tiny fingers, but looked up from doing so to look at him directly following her question. Shy, but an honest warmth and sense of boldness? Puzzling him for a moment, he stared back at the human girl. Trust. It was the quick trust that did it for him, Kurama decided.
He turned back to his art easel and began adding dots of pink to his tree, figuring a sakura tree wouldn't raise many eyebrows.
"Do you live nearby?"
"No." It seemed she wasn't taking his hint of disinterest, but at least she seemed to pause at his answer. Then he heard her drag her easel a bit closer and she went back to her first question he hadn't answered. Good memory, not easily swayed or distracted. This along with her slight spiritual energy could be an issue as she seemed to have decided to be his friend anyway.
"What are you painting?"
Keeping his voice even, he decided to remain polite but disinterested. "A sakura tree."
She beamed and said what she was painting as if answering his question. "I'm painting an alien with many eyes."
Kurama frowned as he finally looked at her easel. It certainly did look like a green humanoid with eyes everywhere. He glanced over to the cheerful girl adding to her masterpiece and wondered if she had contact with this kind of demon. Or was this sort of painting considered normal by human standards?
"A boy our age told the alien to go home, that he wasn't meant to be here and then he and I played ninja to save the queen demon cat," she chattered to him. Annoyed at himself for thinking more than a child's imagination with her tiny energy, Kurama went back to his finger painting and swiped a fresh bit of white paint in the bottom corner.
Less than five years, he reminded himself as he stared at the white near the roots of his sakura tree. Kurama wrinkled his nose as the girl continued talking as though he was listening and holding conversation with her.
He remained silent under her attention.
