Author's Note: Those of you who read Four Years may be surprised by the fact that I'm actually offering you some information here, lol! Happy reading.
Satoru sat up straight in his chair, correcting his typical slumped posture. He suppressed a sigh and rubbed the back of his neck, still feeling kinks and aches from sleeping in a chair. His eyes slipped across the bridge as he shook out his shoulders. As usual, it was abuzz with activity, and his team of analysts, computer experts, and intelligence professionals was assembled around him, all staring into the glow of their twin monitors. His team was clustered on the captain's left, assuming Takehiko was seated in front of the main monitor, and the other side of the bridge was given up to the pilot, navigator, and the crew members monitoring Drift's condition and standing by to work its weapons.
He stared to his left, looking at his son. They had left Eimi in Koushiro's bedroom about an hour ago. He would have preferred leaving her in the sick bay, or dropping her off with another adult, but she had been crying and staring at the wall, and Koushiro insisted that she wanted to stay there. As much as he hesitated to defer to a seven year old for what was essentially parenting advice, his son was the only one who had access to Eimi's thoughts and desires, so he reluctantly relented.
But Satoru was worried about her, and, judging by the way Koushiro stared at his monitors with his hands glued, unmoving, to his keyboard, so was he. Despite everything, a small smile played at his lips when he considered that Koushiro had finally found something that called him more strongly than his work on the bridge. He stood and put his hands on his son's shoulders.
"Why don't you spend the day with our little miss?" he asked. "I really don't like the thought of her being alone in her state, and I sense that you don't, either." Koushiro craned his neck, trying to get a view of his face, and Satoru released him so that he could turn his chair to face him.
Koushiro's eyes widened slightly, and he edged closer to his father, but his brows remained pressed down. "I want to," he admitted, and his eyes fell from Satoru's, as if he had just said something embarrassing. "But... I have my duties here..."
Satoru fought down a sigh of relief, very glad to find that Koushiro's objection was something so simple. "You're seven, Koushiro," he said gently, kneeling so that he could speak quietly by his son's ear. Some of his teammates were glancing curiously in their direction, and he didn't want their bit of family drama to become a source of lunchtime gossip. "You're allowed to engage in activities other than work. In fact, it's encouraged." He tugged gently on his son's thin shoulders, half pulling him out of his seat. "Now, go make sure she's alright, and bring her something from the mess hall, alright?" It would seem strange to most adults, Satoru knew, to send a child to care for another child, but his son was mature and capable. And, anyway, Eimi didn't trust adults at the moment. She would be most comfortable with Koushiro.
Koushiro stared at him, his mouth opened slightly. He kept glancing between Satoru's face and the walkway leading to the stairs that would take him off of the bridge, as if he didn't quite believe that he could be allowed a reprieve from work. "I'm not sure if she'll eat it," he said at last, frowning and pressing a hand to his chin. "She wouldn't take anything earlier."
Satoru patted his head and did his best to smile reassuringly. "It's okay to be a little forceful when you're looking after someone," he said softly. "Make sure she gets something to eat, and plenty to drink. She needs lots of water, especially if she's been crying. This is how you can best serve Drift today. Do you understand?"
Koushiro nodded slowly, and Satoru turned him around by the shoulders and gave him a gentle push towards the walkway. His boy glanced back at him hesitantly, then squared his shoulders and moved away from him.
Satoru looked at his receding back and smiled.
Izumi Quarters
Koushiro knocked gently on his bedroom door, but there was no answer. He opened the door quietly, then stuck his head into the room. Eimi was still curled up on his bed and staring blankly at the wall, exactly as he had left her. He frowned and stepped inside.
"Are you alright?" he asked, moving to the bed. Her body jerked, and she rolled over to face him.
"Kou-chan!" she cried, scrambling into a sitting position. "I didn't notice ya. Sorry." Koushiro nodded and sat down next to her on his bed. He took a good look at her face, and saw that her eyes were rimmed with red, and surrounded by tiny lines that usually came with age. There were faint, shining streaks on her cheeks.
Frowning, he grabbed her hand and tugged, and she jumped down from the bed, following him obediently. His brow rose slightly at her acquiescence; given the distressingly forceful way she had spoken to his father earlier this morning, he had expected much more of a fight.
"I thought ya had stuff to do," she said, crowding his back as he led her into the kitchenette.
He grunted and knelt in front of the mini fridge, which was placed directly on the floor for his convenience. He wrapped his prosthetic hand around a jug of milk, lifting it with an ease well beyond his natural abilities. "I was relieved. Today, my directive is to take care of you."
Eimi squeezed his hand and sighed. "I'm sorry. Ya don't hafta take care of me. I can take care of myself. I bet your other stuff is more fun."
"Please don't say 'stuff,'" Koushiro said as he opened a cabinet. There were a few plates and cups in the lower cabinets for him to use when his father was elsewhere. He was too short to reach the rest of them. He picked up a plate and a cup, and handed them off to Eimi, who stared at them a little blankly. "It's nonspecific. Clear communication is imperative. It can be a matter of life or death."
"Why're ya bossin' me, all of a sudden?" she asked, frowning. Koushiro picked the milk back up and led the way to the couch, relieved that she was still following him.
"I'm not trying to boss you around," he said, and a faint, foreign sensation of annoyance began to build up inside of him. "I'm trying to teach you. You're going to live on Drift now, so there's a lot that you'll need to learn." He poured her a glass of milk, then put the muffin and orange he had taken from the mess hall on the plate. "Please, eat that. I can assure you that the taste is pleasing."
"Don't want it," Eimi said, placing a hand on her stomach. "I feel all squishy inside." Koushiro sighed as he watched her eyes water and her chin begin to quiver. Her depression was perfectly understandable, but he was beginning to feel powerless with his inability to cheer her. He scooted closer to her and put his arm around her waist, hoping to offer support.
"I know," he whispered, resting his head on her shoulder. She sniffed and tilted her head so that it rested against his. Her body was warm, and she still smelled faintly like dusty, parched earth and adobe. "But you'll grow weak if you don't eat, and then you'll feel worse. You don't want to grow ill and have to spend the night in the sick bay, do you?" He hated to threaten her, but convincing her to eat was important.
Her body trembled violently, and she slid away from him, reaching for the muffin. "Naw. I wanna stay with ya. But if I barf, it's your fault, innit?"
Koushiro grimaced at her back, and was suddenly grateful that she could not see his expression at the moment. "Don't say 'innit,' please."
Eimi was frowning when she turned around to face him, pastry in hand. "Why the hell not?" she asked, raising a brow at him and sinking her teeth into the head of the muffin.
A jolt of shock ran through Koushiro, and he slapped his forehead forcefully. "No, no, no. Don't curse, Eimi-san, please."
"Whaaaaaat?" she cried through a mouthful of muffin, scowling full out. Koushiro sighed and brushed scattered, wet crumbs off of his uniform jacket. "That's how my cousin talks. And there's not even luckies around to hear it and get all scoldy, so what's the twist? And oi, don't use 'san' with me."
Koushiro pressed a hand to his chin and stared at her for a long moment. So far, Eimi hadn't been feeling well enough to speak much, and he was a little shocked now that she was talking. She was so… wild, uncultured. It was strange; when he first met her, he was sure that he sensed gentleness, kindness, and vulnerability in her, even as she trembled and pointed a gun at him. And there had been something very sweet and trusting in the way she had clung to him the day before and last night. Her need of him had made him feel capable and important, had made him care about her. He couldn't understand the motivation for her sudden change.
He took a deep breath and forced himself to focus back in on their conversation. "I'm sorry to be the one to tell you this, but we discourage foul language in this family. And what, pray, is a 'lucky'?"
Thankfully, she swallowed this time before she started talking. "Yanno. A grown-up."
His brow rose with honest curiosity. "Oh? Why call an adult a lucky?"
She tossed her head and bared her teeth. "Coz they lived long enough to grow up, hey?" Her tone was aggressive, almost welcoming him to comment on how different their worlds were, and she suddenly reminded Koushiro, almost forcibly, of another orphan aboard Drift, a boy who used brashness as weapon, a way to look stronger and more capable than he was.
And, suddenly, he understood. There was a tight, throbbing pain in his chest as he recognized her fear. "You know... You don't have to pretend with me. I know how hard it is, being alone, being miserable, wishing someone you loved was still here. Being frightened. But you aren't alone, and there's nothing to fear from myself and my father. I don't want there to be fronts between us. Please... Just behave naturally around me. I want to be your friend. After all, we're family now."
Eimi's edged away from him, blinking rapidly, and reached desperately for her cup of milk, drinking deeply, as if to clear her throat with the liquid, or perhaps to stall for time. After a long draught, she swallowed noisily and sat the cup back down. "I, I... How'd ya...?" She drew her legs up to her chest and began to sway slightly on the couch, and Koushiro inched closer, putting his arm around her shoulder.
"Your attitude changed severely after our conversation this morning. After you discovered that we have nothing to do with your uncle, you began to act tough and callous. Clearly, you're imitating someone that you find capable, or trying to mask your fear." He gently applied pressure on her shoulders until she leaned forward, and then he stroked her back soothingly, the way his mother used to stroke his when he was upset. "I wish I could convince you that we mean you no harm. I know this is a strange environment for you, but you'll grow accustomed to it, and I'm sure you'll be happy here."
"Are ya happy here?" she whispered. Koushiro's hand froze in its rounds over her back, and he cleared his throat. She averted her eyes and sighed, then rested her face against her knees, hiding it from view.
"I have no objection with Drift itself," he said hastily, realizing that he had flubbed an opportunity to put her at ease. "My duties on the bridge are fascinating, and I enjoy spending time in the viewing room. But... My life has been... I..." He could feel his body beginning to shake slightly, and, for once, he didn't bother hiding it. Eimi was broken. He was broken. There was no need to dissemble around her. She would understand, or could come to understand.
Eimi sat up and looked at him for a long moment. "Where's your ma?" she asked gently. He gasped and paled. Somehow, in just three words, she had cut down to the core of his misery, working her way through layers of ice and facades and straight into the writhing pain in his heart. For a moment, all he could do was stare at her. She smiled slightly, regretfully, and her tiny hand, so pale that it seemed to glow faintly, made its tender way through his hair, stroking his scalp soothingly. His body shuddered at the touch. The tiny, circular motions of her fingertips sent shivering, relieving sensations through his body.
Being touched so tenderly, being spoken with concern by a soft, feminine voice… Koushiro realized all at once how much he had missed this. He loved his father. His father gladly taught him everything he knew, he was rational and patient, open minded and flexible. He knew when to be firm and when to yield, and he allowed Koushiro his privacy, and all the freedom and encouragement he needed to slowly become whatever he desired. Furthermore, Koushiro could sense his father's love and concern for him. But his mother had been the warm one, the one who had held him and listened to the whispered hurts of childhood, the one who thought of little treats for him and sang him off-key lullabies. Although he didn't really understand it, this trading of physical comforts with Eimi was feeding a desperate need within him. He wrapped an arm around her waist and clung to her instinctively.
"She died," he whispered. Then he swallowed, and his brow drew down firmly. He shifted his prosthetic so that it was in between Eimi's body and the rest of the world, despite the lack of immediate threats. "No. She was killed... by imperial forces."
Eimi's fingers stiffened against his scalp. "I'm sorry, Kou-chan," she whispered, and she sounded as lost as he felt. Koushiro settled his robotic arm around her waist in response, squeezing gently. He never did know what to say when he received condolences. "Was… Was your village attacked, like mine?"
He breathed in deeply a few times before he answered. "I never lived in a village. I was born aboard Drift. A few years ago, we landed in a city for supplies, and the empire was waiting for us. We suspect that there was betrayal involved." He closed his eyes and gently rubbed the outside of his lids, but it did nothing to banish the surprisingly clear images forming in his mind. "We were attacked. We lost quite a few people."
"D'ya… D'ya wanna talk about it, Kou-chan?" Eimi asked, resuming her scalp massage. He shook his head violently, accidentally knocking her hand away.
"No. I'm sorry, but… No." That was the last thing he wanted to do. Someday, he would have to tell her, since that day was such a key moment in his life. But, today he didn't have the strength.
"Okay," she replied softly. Eimi squeezed him, broke away from him, and reached for her orange. She pulled the fruit close to her face and tilted it about, frowning at it. "How'm I supposed to be eatin' this, then?" she asked, digging her fingernails into the peel. Koushiro swallowed his questions about how she could possibly not know what an orange was and began to peel it, forcing his clever fingers under the rind and pulling it away from the fruit inside. Once that was done, he sat the fruit on the plate, pulled it apart into pieces, and handed it to her, taking two slices for himself. Eimi picked one up, popped it in her mouth, and began to chew.
"Tastes like that juice from earlier," she said after she had swallowed. "But… I don't really like the flesh." She picked up the next piece and sucked on it, removing all of the juice, then sat the shriveled, whitish remains back on the plate. Koushiro stared at her, trying his best not to react with disgust.
"You… You're vampirizing an orange."
"Vampi-what?" Eimi asked, arching a brow and reaching for another slice.
Koushiro shook his head. "Uh, nevermind."
Eimi licked her fingertips and smiled, and Koushiro suddenly realized that she had sensed his unhappiness and changed the subject to something safer. He stared as she continued to work the juice out of defenseless hunks of orange, slowly realizing that there may be more to Eimi than met the eyes.
Although it seemed unfair to ask her questions after she had allowed him to gloss over the story of his mother's death, Koushiro was suddenly eager to learn more about her. He cleared his throat awkwardly and forced the question out before he could change his mind, and the words ran together in a tumbling rush. "Do you mind if I ask you why you thought we were involved with your uncle?"
Eimi shifted uncomfortably and pushed the plate further away on the coffee table. "Ya said the code words."
"You mentioned that," Koushiro reminded her gently. "What I'm wondering is, why did your uncle create a code word for you in the first place?"
"Oh," she said quietly. She grabbed her arm and began to run her hand up and down its length. "Coz he knew they were coming. The bad men and their monsters. Yanno, the empire soldiers."
Koushiro stared, wide eyed. The empire did not make a habit of announcing their... visits. It was very possible that this story could have overtones that might be beyond his grasp. His father would want to hear this, first hand. "Eimi-san-"
"'Chan'," she corrected, her tone inching on bossy. "No one uses 'san' with me. Or just call me by name. Ya said we're family, didn'cha?"
Koushiro scowled, despite his best efforts to remain polite and kind. He couldn't deny that she was starting to dig at his nerves, and the sensation was completely foreign to him. His emotional palette usually included placid, melancholy, and depression, with no other shades. He had only known Eimi for two days, and she was already forcing him to feel other ones. Annoyance, impatience, commiseration, compassion, amusement, affection... It was beginning to overwhelm him.
"I prefer to address people politely," he explained, steeling himself with a deep breath. Eimi crossed her arms, drew herself up, and stared imperiously down at him.
"Well, I don't wanna be talked at like I'm some boring adult. And what's so polite about callin' someone somethin' they don't wanna be called, hey?"
He opened his mouth to retort, then shut it with a faint snap. She had a point, and Koushiro pressed a hand to his chin. His understanding of her kept shifting with every exchange, until he simply didn't know what to think. Her ignorance had made her appear dull and unintelligent, but there was definite wit buried within her, even if she lacked a firm enough hold on language to express it well. But if someone bothered to teach her... Then it might be a true pleasure to talk to her, almost a game. He felt his interest sharpen, and he looked into her eyes. Something about the way she met his glance spoke of confidence, made it perfectly clear that she was aware that she was right.
"Very well," he allowed, holding his hands out. "I concede. Eimi-chan, do you mind if my father listens to our conversation? As the head of our family, he should know this information." At first, Eimi was smiling, clearly pleased with her victory, but it fled as she processed his request.
"I... I dunno, Kou-chan. Don't be mad, but..." she made an awkward hedging sound and tilted her head.
"You don't trust him." Koushiro raised a brow, and she sighed and nodded. "Do you trust me?" he asked. She stared at him for a moment, and then her eyes squeezed shut.
"Yes," she breathed, taking hold of his arm. She rested her head on his shoulder. "My cousin would go all snarly at me if he heard that. Ya gotta be shifty-like to survive." There was a slight pause as she chewed her lower lip. "And I guess that reminds me… Thanks for savin' me last night. Will ya really get in trouble?"
"You're welcome," he said gently. "I couldn't leave you there. Being afraid and alone... No one should have to feel that way." He cleared his throat awkwardly, then put his hand on her far shoulder. "I'm not actually in trouble. I just have to share my room with you until we can manage more appropriate accommodations." Well, that was his 'punishment' from his father. But because he had attacked Drift security, he was being disciplined formally, as well. Since he had torn apart his father's security measures, he had been tasked with giving them an overhaul. However, Eimi would have no idea what he was talking about, so he didn't bring it up.
Her brow creased. "Whaddya mean? That was really your room? We don't have that at all in my village, just a place to cook and a room in the middle and cots at nighttime. Well, I had a hammock. I didn't get a cot. But I like the hammock better anyway," she added hastily, coloring slightly.
Koushiro fought down a shudder. Despite the fact that he respected and liked his father, his privacy was of paramount importance to him. He couldn't stomach the thought of essentially never having any, and was already feeling a little worried about having to share his personal space with Eimi. And what was he supposed to make of the hammock detail? It almost sounded as if Eimi was indicating that her family had a habit of slighting her. He suddenly wished he were an adult. Being a child didn't inhibit him when it came to handling data and working on the computer, not with his mental skills. But when the human element was thrown into the equation, he found that he lacked the experience and social awareness to reach conclusions with his normal confidence and accuracy. Although he wasn't really sure how much growing up would help; his father still showed signs of having the same difficulties.
"Yes, yes," he said distractedly. "It's my room. Our room. That's not relevant at the moment. What I was trying to say is that, A, you trust me. B, I trust my father. And, therefore, C, you should feel confident trusting my father with my recommendation. He really is a good person."
"Eeh? Bee? Sea?" Koushiro gave her a puzzled frown, unable to discern why she was repeating letters at him. She returned his blank stare for a moment, then huffed. "Oh, alright. If ya say your da should hear this, then fine. But...isn't he doing grown-up stuff?" Koushiro scowled, and she grimaced, hastening to backtrack. "Sorry. Isn't he on the, uh, bridge?"
Koushiro felt his eyebrows rising. He was impressed that she remembered the word, although he wasn't convinced that she actually knew what it meant. With any luck, she would feel well enough leave their quarters soon, and he could give her a tour so she could learn what all of the different rooms were called. "Yes, he's working on the bridge. That's the command center of the ship." He paused and lifted his prosthetic, turning it so that the inside of the forearm was facing Eimi. The small computer that he often attached to it during the day winked up at her with the reflection of the overhead lights. The computer wasn't all that powerful, since the entire circuit board was limited to a squished space behind a small screen, but it was sufficient for the task at hand. "He'll be able to hear us through this."
Eimi's pale, pink lips popped apart. "Whaaaat," she cried, edging away slightly, but Koushiro kept a firm grip on her shoulders, and she didn't struggle enough to break it, although she probably could have if she chose to. "I can't-but-augh!" Her hands flew to her face, blocking it from view, and Koushiro realized that this latest novelty was one bit of strangeness too many for her. Indoor plumbing, helicopters, computers, electric lights, doors that moved apparently of their own free will... It was all new and frightening to her. Koushiro made a soothing, cooing sound, the kind the nurses used when children received their vaccinations, and waited for her panic to subside, gently patting her far shoulder all the while.
Eventually, her body relaxed a little. "If ya wanna contact someone," she said at length, breathing slowly, "ya have the scribe take a letter, don'cha?"
"Scribe?" Koushiro repeated. A piece of knowledge, horrifying and terrible, clicked together in his mind, and it took him a moment to even begin to comprehend it. Eimi couldn't read. Illiteracy was the norm where she came from. His body shuddered, and Eimi lowered her hands enough to peek at him with one eye.
"N-no," he said slowly, forcing himself not to comment on her inability to read. She would never be able to join the classes on Drift. She was too miserably far behind. "No. We have faster modes of communication. Here, allow me to show you."
He input the command to start a phone call with his father. A moment later, his father's voice issued from the speaker on the back of the computer, sounding faintly concerned. "Koushiro," he said, and Eimi paled and gawked at the screen, "what's the matter? Is everything alright with Eimi-chan?"
"Hello. Everything's fine. I was just having a discussion with Eimi-chan that I thought you might be interested in hearing... About her uncle." He glanced at Eimi and saw that she was worrying her lower lip with her front teeth. Her arms slipped around his waist, and he did his best to smile reassuringly.
"I... I see. Just let me put my headphones in. I don't want to distract my team. Koushiro, if I have any questions, I'll send them via text, so please keep an eye on your monitor."
"Acknowledged." Koushiro wasn't entirely sure why his father wanted to keep this discussion so private, but he trusted his judgment, so he made no comment. He waited for confirmation that his father was ready, then smiled at Eimi. "Eimi-chan, you mentioned that your uncle knew the empire was sending people to your village. Can you tell me how?"
She fixed her eyes on his and worked her mouth for a moment, then sighed and looked away, staring into space. "Coz my da was in contact with them," she said, speaking in a strangely hollow voice. Her shoulders slumped below his arm, and she squished herself even closer to him, so that they were pressed almost painfully close together. "He told 'em to come."
His heart missed a beat, and it caused a faint, momentary pain in his chest. "W-w-why would anyone do that?" Koushiro sputtered. Inviting the empire to your home was the simplest recipe for disaster Koushiro had ever heard of. He wanted to say more, but a message appeared on the screen, distracting him. Something's wrong, it said. Please, speak more gently. She's upset, and I need to hear this.
Eimi's hands formed tiny fists, wrinkling the fabric of his uniform jacket. Her body began to tremble slightly, and she buried her face in his neck. "Coz…coz he wanted to sell me to them. The empire, or whatever. The bad people."
There was a long, astonished pause. Koushiro had no idea what to say. Really, what could anyone say to that? He pulled her in even more, as if he were trying to permanently squish them together. Then, slowly, the shock wore off, and he began to feel a hot, churning sensation in his gut. It took a moment for him to identify it as seething anger towards this father of hers. His teeth began to gnash together, and the sound startled him for a moment. His eyes jumped about the tiny living room and kitchenette, as if searching for a target to vent his ire upon, but violence was not in his nature, and he didn't know what to do with this frightening emotion. Then a flashing from his arm had him glancing down, and he was grateful for the distraction his father provided. Ask her if she knows why, the monitor read. Please try to say it nicely, although I've no idea how one would manage that.
Neither do I, Koushiro thought miserably. He did what he could to still his frothing interior state, then moved his arm and stroked the side of her face that wasn't pressed into his neck. "I'm sorry, Eimi-chan. I'm really sorry." If he didn't know that he was the one speaking, he wouldn't have recognized his own voice. It was heavy and low, strained and thick. Eimi nodded slowly, and Koushiro's fingers encountered hot moisture. "But... It's important for me to ask if you know why your father would do that."
Eimi produced a disgusting, wet sniffing sound, but Koushiro couldn't blame her, and he found himself surprisingly indifferent to being covered in her snot and tears. She made a tiny, mewling sound and cleared her throat. "He…he used to say it a lot, yanno, that he would sell me to the bad people coz I cost money to feed. But I did all my chores," she said defensively. Koushiro swallowed hard and fought down tears of his own. He didn't entirely understand it, but her need to point out that she earned her keep hurt him. Had her father really taught her that being clothed and fed came at a price? Did she really think she had to earn her place in a family unit? And if those basic needs were given begrudgingly, then what were the odds that she had been loved?
But she was still talking, so he did his best to clear out those thoughts and attend. "Anyway, I guess he said it coz, yanno, I have Gift, and I guess the empire likes Gift? I dunno. But he never really meant it till one day, when he said I was a..." She frowned and tilted her head. "I dunno, it was a word I didn't know, I thiiiink it started with a rrrrr sound." Koushiro could practically hear his father slapping his palm against his forehead, but he didn't have that luxury, not when he was holding on to a miserable little girl.
"But whatever it was, it meant he could get lotsa money, so... So he went to the scribe and sent a letter. And the scribe, he was nice, he talked to my ma, he did, and told her about my da's plan to sell me. So she sent a letter to my uncle, who is her brother, yanno."
She paused and stared at him, and the wide set of her eyes and the drooping of her eyebrows reminded him of a lost puppy. Koushiro knew she wouldn't be able to go on without some prodding, but he was too horrified by what he was hearing to piece together a sensible question. He glanced desperately at his monitor, and was relieved to see a prompt from his father. What did her uncle do?
Koushiro repeated the question aloud, and Eimi wiped her eyes and nodded. "Uh, he told my ma to send me to his village. It takes a whole day by horse. I like horses. They smell nice, well, except when they, yanno, then they smell real bad."
She's trying to redirect the conversation. Get her back on track.
Koushiro did his best not to shift uncomfortably, knowing that Eimi wouldn't understand the body motion. He was beginning to feel like a pest, asking her to talk about this. But, at the same time, he couldn't deny that he wanted to know what happened next, even as his heart sank at the prospect of hearing even worse things. "Did your father allow you to go?" Koushiro asked.
"He didn't know that my ma knew about selling me. The scribe kept things hush. It takes a long time for a letter to go and come back, especially going far, so I don't think he cared as long as I was back by whenever they were supposed to come."
"What did you do with your uncle? He made some kind of plan, correct?"
"He taught me stuff. I mean, uh, he showed me all the guns ya find in our villages, and taught me how many bullets they can hold, and taught me to count bullets, even when lotsa stuff is going on. Even when people are shooting and making noise, I mean. He said that, if beasts come, ya hide under corpses, since they don't like corpses. Uh, and he taught me how to fight with my cousin, my cousin has Gift too, and we worked on using our Gifts. We worked a lot. It was hard. Taichi plays rough."
"Taichi-san?" Koushiro echoed incredulously, but a message from the screen had him backtracking. You can ask about that later. Stay focused.
Reluctantly, Koushiro swallowed his questions about this cousin Taichi of hers. "What about the code? Little Bird?"
Eimi nodded slowly. "After a month or so, I guess, my da came to get me himself. Before I left, my uncle told me that he didn't know if he would be able to be there in person to get me out of my village. He said that if he couldn't be there himself, I was supposed to trust anyone who called me Little Bird, because they came from him, and would take care of me. And he said, no matter what, that I wasn't supposed to let the empire take me… Even if they said they would hurt people if I didn't go. He said everything they say is a lie."
"He spoke true," Koushiro whispered. And what was just as frightening as the empire's duplicity was the thought that her uncle obviously prioritized her safety above that of her entire village's, including his sister's. Logically, that meant that whatever power Eimi had, whatever it was that her father had discovered about her, it was dangerous enough that it was worth potentially sacrificing everyone in her village to keep her out of the empire's hands. He licked his lips nervously, then frowned and furrowed his brow. No. No. He would not fear the trembling girl pressed up against him. He refused to.
"So…what happened when they arrived?" he prompted. Eimi's chest heaved a few times, and fresh tears wet his neck.
"The soldiers came and asked for me. My da grabbed me and wanted to know where the money was, but they didn't bring the money, did they," she said bitterly. "Naw. They just stuck a gun in his face and grabbed me, but I ghosted, like my uncle said, and I ran, and then the guns went off and then they let the beasts go and then- And then everyone started falling." She tried to pull away, but Koushiro held on to her, refusing to let her slip beyond the safety of his arms. The burning sensation that had been plaguing his eyes seemed to swell up and outward, and tears began to drip down his face. Heat swept over his skin, and he felt so very sick. Although he was very young when he saw imperial forces unleash their beasts firsthand, he remembered it with startling clarity, and Eimi's words made the memories rush to the fore of his mind.
"So I guess it's my fault. If I hadn't run… But I promised. I can't break a promise. My uncle said they would make me a weapon. I don't know what he meant, but I couldn't, I couldn't- I was so scared- They shot my da, they blew his head off, but he asked for it, didn't he? But then- my brother- my ma-" Eimi began to babble, but her fractured words rapidly disintegrated into incoherent sounds that morphed into anguished, keening sobs.
She's breaking down. I'll be right there. Try to console her. We might have to take her to the sick bay. Tell her it isn't her fault. There was a pause, and the previous message disappeared as the new one formed. It isn't. Don't think for a moment that it's her fault, Koushiro.
I know that, Koushiro thought fiercely. He comforted her as best as he could, and she threw herself onto him. She was bigger than him, so he was forced to lay beneath her on the couch. One of her arms wrapped around his waist, forming an uncomfortable lump between his back and the cushion. Her other hand clung to a rod in his prosthetic, sliding down the smooth metallic surface. Koushiro gently pried her fingers free and pressed her hand to his cheek, then circled her trembling body with his arms. He was feeling more than a little squished beneath her, but he didn't complain.
Whatever small comfort he could offer her was hers for the taking.
Author's Note: Oi, I am so tired of chapters where all that happens is TALKING. Which is why next chapter will have ACTION! (Okay and also some talking, but also ACTION!) I originally planned to introduce some more of the chosen children this chapter (you can probably guess who), but then all the TALKING happened, and I realized I had a few thousand words! So yeah.
Fairly sure this is kind of a weak chapter, comparatively… What do you think? I had a really hard time writing it, it's difficult to keep a conversation moving for so long. Also, ugh, I probably screwed up Eimi's dialect fifty times, I can't wait until she loses her accent, because I fail at keeping it consistent (it will happen soon). Please let me know if you noticed any inconsistencies, I am not offended to be corrected, I'm sure I missed some, I've been so tired lately…
Teasers for next chapter: Meeting more chosen children! Learning to fight! A rampaging sparring match! Classes! AIR BOARDING! :D
