Chapter 3
Hiboku
The address on the slip of paper the tea master had given him led Amon to a Buddhist temple. When he arrived just before 3 o'clock in the afternoon that Sunday, he saw Karasuma sitting on a bench in the temple's garden.
"I wasn't expecting you," he said, sitting beside her.
"I wasn't sure if it was a good idea for me to meet with you personally, but I was careful. I wasn't followed. I needed to see you myself."
"How is everyone?"
"Adjusting. It's hard to lose friends, but they're adjusting. All use of Orbo has stopped, which makes hunts more difficult, both logistically and psychologically."
"It's the right thing to do."
"We're limiting hunts. Most of the witches on the watch list...we're having trouble even keeping track of them, let alone hunting them, and... This is what I needed to talk to you about."
"What?"
"At Solomon headquarters, there's a push now to reform the hunting codes. In light of the outrage over the Factory's experiments, and how thin our resources are spread, there are some advocating for a policy of coexistence with nonviolent witches."
A surge of hope welled up in Amon's heart. It didn't show in his face. "That would mean..."
"Robin would be safe," she confirmed. "Father Juliano is one of the strongest voices in favor of the reforms."
"Does he suspect?"
"That she's still alive? I don't know. He hasn't contacted me to question my official report."
Amon nodded. "Thank you."
"As far as I've heard, no one's looking for you. No rumors of new hunters out for Robin. But you should still keep out of sight, for now at least."
"Understood."
"How is she?" Karasuma asked, her voice softening.
"As well as can be expected." He wouldn't speak of the nights when he'd walked in on her secretly weeping. He'd pretended not to notice. He hadn't asked her why: it was for guilt over the mercy killing of the imprisoned witches, or sorrow at their fate, or sadness at the separation from her friends, or fear of what the future held, or some combination of these. "She has been spending much of her time reading."
"Good." She nodded. "And how are you?"
"Fine," he answered.
"Has the wound you took been healing?"
"It wasn't serious."
"Good." She nodded again. "Ah, I almost forgot." She handed him a paper bag containing two gift boxes.
"What is this?"
"Birthday presents for Robin. One from me, one from the Master."
"When is her birthday?" he asked in surprise.
"According to Father Juliano's records, it was last Friday."
"She didn't mention it."
"Knowing Robin, do you really think she would have?"
Amon realized Robin might not have even known what day it was.
When he returned to the cottage he heard singing from inside, some Italian folk song, by the sound of it. He listened for a moment, then deliberately coughed to announce his presence. The singing stopped, and he opened the door.
Robin had been in the middle of dusting, and she looked embarrassed. "Welcome back," she mumbled.
"You never ask me where I've been," he commented.
"Why would I? I trust that you are careful, and that you will come back."
It was strange to be trusted as much as Robin trusted him. Sometimes it made him nervous. "And you never ask to go with me."
That darkened her countenance. She wanted to leave the cottage, he knew. They had been there for over two weeks, and she hadn't once complained.
"I understand it's too dangerous for me to leave," she said.
"Why didn't you tell me your birthday was a week ago?"
"Huh?" She looked perplexed. "Growing up an orphan, birthdays were never significant days for me. Besides, with everything that has been happening, it didn't seem important."
"You're sixteen years old now."
"Yes, I am. How did you find out when my birthday was?"
"I spoke to Karasuma today."
Robin's eyes widened with surprise. "How is she?"
"She is well. She'll let us know if and when it is safe to return. She sent these." He handed her the bag. "Gifts from her and the Master."
Hesitantly, blushing, she opened the gifts. One was a set of calligraphy brushes and supplies. The other was a cotton yukata, lavender in color, patterned with light green ginkgo leaves.
She closed her eyes. Her lips trembled. Her hands, still holding the gifts, also trembled. In a moment she regained her composure, and whispered, "Thank you," in a small voice that was not meant for him.
"I wish you had told me when your birthday was," he said softly.
"Why?"
He wasn't sure why. She was sixteen, the age when a girl stopped being a girl and became a young woman. It was significant.
"I would have done something special for you."
Her hands, which had been examining the contents of the calligraphy box, grew oddly still. "Something like what?" she asked.
"I don't know." He paused. "Karasuma says no one is hunting for you as far as she knows. I think it would not be too much of a risk to take you out for tea."
"Do you mean it?" she asked, barely daring to hope.
"Of course."
She rose to her feet and wrapped her arms around him. He was startled, but in a moment his tension melted and he returned her embrace.
"Thank you," she said. "For everything, Amon."
In the narrow partition where Amon slept there was a small mirror hanging on the wall above a basin of water, which he used for shaving. He looked at his face in the mirror. His face seemed a darker hue than usual. Was he tanned, blushing, or flushed?
He took off his coat and peeled his shirt down, away from the puncture mark where he'd been shot with the Orbo dart. Other than some redness around the scar, it looked fine.
He'd told Karasuma he was fine, and he was fine. He'd been cleaning the wound and taking antibiotics to make sure the puncture didn't become infected. He was fine.
It wasn't even pain that he felt there, anymore. It was more like an unplaceable numbness, a tingling he couldn't quite locate. Like his skin was trying to crawl away from the spot. The feeling seemed to be spreading.
He had to be fine. Robin needed him. Or the world needed him to protect it from her.
