TACO Run

Chapter 41

Alfyn whistled a tune quietly to himself as they turned down another long, winding street. They'd been walking for quite a while now, and he wouldn't deny how tired he was, but being back with the other guys was too much of a good thing for him to not be happy. Besides, those light-poles kept the streets well-lit enough even after sunset that it didn't feel creepy or dangerous. Not while they were in a group like this, anyway.

Miss Kaname sure was nice, and kinda pretty, and even if she was really tiny he was pretty sure she could kick his ass from here all the way back to the guardhouse.

Well. Cyrus' ass, definitely. Alfyn's ass she could probably kick for a block or so.

"What are you thinking about?" Therion asked, voice low as he drifted back towards Alfyn again.

"Asses," Alfyn answered reflexively, and then snorted and clapped a hand over his face, going a little red. "Not like that. I meant… never mind."

Therion just gave him a mild skeptical look, and then rolled his eyes. A kind of funny tension eased out of his shoulders though, so maybe Alfyn had been making a face that worried him?

At least miss Kaname was busy getting a lecture from Cyrus about what all classes he taught, and the basic geography of Orsterra and such, so she hadn't heard that stupid slip. She even seemed interested in what the professor was saying, and regularly asked questions and tried to engage Olberic in the conversation too.

"I love enthusiastic people," she'd said earlier, when the professor'd been self-aware enough to warn her that he tended to talk people's ears off. "As long as you care about what you're talking about, I will too."

Alfyn would've been a little more worried about that, except that miss Kaname didn't look at the professor the way most women did. She didn't blush, or giggle, or let her eyes linger on his face. Instead, there was a kind of… indulgent interest there. Maybe fondness? Like a mom listening to a little kid chatter about the games they'd played with their friends, except miss Kaname didn't seem like she was pretending.

Cyrus had just started digressing into the history of Atlasdam's founding when miss Kaname lifted a hand to cut him off, saying something apologetic.

"No need to apologize, my dear," Cyrus assured her quickly. "I do appreciate the warning—so this is your residence?"

Alfyn looked over along with the rest of the guys, eyes following the tall wooden fence down to a wooden gate. He could see a leafy treetop sticking up over the fence—which was probably one and a half, even two times his height—as well as what was probably the second floor of her house. He gave a low whistle, impressed. "You've got a pretty big place, miss Kaname, ma'am."

She grinned back at him, saying something teasing enough that he guessed it meant 'well how else am I supposed to have room enough for you four?'.

Considering that on the way here, she'd said that her house had rooms for not just them and her, but her uncle and her two nieces, he probably should've expected it to be the size of a small inn. She hadn't mentioned the girls' parents, though, and Alfyn wondered if that was just a slip, or if they were gone.

Miss Kaname unlocked the front gate, speaking softly as they all slipped through and she closed it behind them. As they sat down on the front steps to pull off their shoes, Olberic let Alfyn and Therion know that she'd said this was technically the back of the house, not the front. The streets had changed since the house and training-hall were first built, so now the front was the back and the back was the front. The original front entrance had an entryway built in, so people could get in out of the weather before taking off their shoes, if they needed to.

The house itself was pretty different from anything Alfyn'd seen before. It had a raised foundation, for one thing—he was pretty sure kids and dogs and stuff could crawl underneath the house to hide out. For another, the thing miss Kaname'd called the, uh, the… egg-nawa? It was kinda like a really long, low balcony that wrapped around the whole house. It'd probably be really nice to sit on and enjoy the weather during the summer.

Once he had his boots off, Alfyn tucked them under the arm opposite his satchel and took another look around. The tree was a big old thing, still with a few pale blossoms clinging stubbornly to its well-leafed branches. It was stuck in between the left side of the house and—"Holy shit, is that a glass building?!"

"Shh!"

Alfyn clapped his hands over his mouth when miss Kaname shushed him, almost dropping his boots in the process. "Sorry," he whispered. Still, though, a whole building made of glass? Even if it was pretty small, it had to have been unholy expensive, didn't it?

According to Cyrus, though, miss Kaname said that it belonged to her uncle, who used it to grow medicinal plants that weren't native to this country, or that were really sensitive to weather changes. He was a local healer, and had a healing-house not too far away, and while she said his job wasn't really the same as being an apothecary, she did say that he'd probably be really interested in talking to Alfyn about that kind of thing in the morning.

Once miss Kaname unlocked the door, they all tiptoed inside—well, as much as Sir Olberic could tiptoe, anyway—and miss Kaname turned on the light and locked the door behind them before showing them to their rooms. One of the rooms was an interior one with no windows, which she apologized for, not that she could help that or anything. Sir Olberic took that one, saying that he had no preferences or great need for anything but a comfortable place to sleep. Miss Kaname giggled softly and assured him that the beds were made with people his size in mind, as well as people her size.

Cyrus got the corner room, since it had the best light and he might need that to study and work by. He vanished into his room almost immediately, barely remembering to give a good-night before he began muttering about elemental numerology and ancient religions. Once the door was shut behind him, Alfyn realized that Therion had already disappeared into the room across from the professor's, which left just him and miss Kaname, who was smiling and shaking her head at how fast Therion had pulled his vanishing act.

Alfyn was tired, but he didn't want to just disappear like the other guys had. So as miss Kaname stretched and moved off down the hallway, he kind of trailed after her, leaving his boots outside his bedroom door.

"Alfyn-kun?" she blinked up at him, puzzled but not upset that he was following her around. "Genki desu ka?"

"I'm fine ma'am," he assured her with a shrug, guessing she was asking if he needed anything or something like that. "Just don't want to go to bed yet, I guess."

She made an acknowledging noise, and let him follow her around the corner and into the kitchen, which was a good bit bigger than missus Inko's had been. Probably because it was meant to feed more people. Pulling a mug from a rack on the counter, she opened the cool-cabinet thing and pulled out a bottle of something opaque and yellow.

Alfyn watched curiously as she twisted the bottle's cap. He thought it was neat that the bottles here had caps that twisted, instead of being corked or plugged with a catch. He was glad that miss Kaname didn't seem bothered by him following her around her house, too, 'cause they'd only just met a few hours ago, and well, her little speech while they'd been walking made it obvious she was a lot more cautious than you'd think, what with her letting them all stay here.

"Wa ikagadeshou ka?" Miss Kaname looked up at him, holding the bottle up to where he could sniff it if he wanted, sipping yellow liquid from her mug.

Alfyn sniffed it, and it smelled like some kind of fruit juice, maybe, but not one he'd ever smelled before.

Miss Kaname giggled quietly, and set the bottle down on the counter, reaching over for another mug and handing it to him, and then flapping a hand at the bottle as if to say 'help yourself'.

Alfyn grinned at her. "Don't mind if I do!" He didn't fill the mug all the way up; it'd be too easy to spill that way, tired as he was, and besides, it'd be real inconsiderate to drink all of miss Kaname's juice right away.

As miss Kaname capped the juice and put it away, Alfyn tried his first sip. Huh. Sweet and sharp at the same time; more acidic than grape or pomegranate juice. Not bad. It left his mouth feeling cleaned-out and refreshed.

A quiet stumble-thumping noise from the second floor caught their attention, and miss Kaname frowned a little worriedly, finishing off her juice and rinsing her mug in the sink before leaving the kitchen. Alfyn hastily followed suit, and the two of them went back up the hallway and around the corner to see what'd made that noise.

"Ba-chan…" A tiny figure toddled around the far corner, the one that led to their borrowed bedrooms and the stairs. "Ba-chan…? Okita…"

"Ah, shh, shh, Kusuri-chan…" Miss Kaname kept her voice to a low, soothing murmur, hurrying over to scoop the little girl up.

"Uta," the girl mumbled, rubbing her eyes—she couldn't be more than two, three years old. "Uta ga hoshī…"

Miss Kaname made reassuring noises, turning and scooting past Alfyn towards the archway midway down the long hall. He wandered after her, caught between curiosity and a desire to do something helpful, though there really wasn't much he could help with, he didn't think.

The room through the archway was a lot more vivid than the rest of the house, with rich coloring on the furniture and walls and rug, so he guessed it was maybe like the parlor in a manse? Only this wasn't a manse, even if it was pretty big for a commoner's house, and you had to pass the other rooms to get to it anyway, which seemed like it'd defeat the purpose of having a fancy room to chat with guests in.

Miss Kaname sat down on the settee—it was really cushiony, instead of elegant—and tucked her niece into her lap, stroking her hair as the girl mumbled "Uta…" again.

"Shh, shh, Kusuri-chan," miss Kaname soothed her softly. She glanced up at Alfyn, and tilted her head in silent invitation for him to sit too.

He did. The settee was really comfy.

Miss Kaname shook her head, tossing her long tail of hair back over her shoulder, and started rocking her niece gently. "Toki no mukou, kaze no machi e, nee, tsurete itte… Shiroi hana no yume kanaete…"

Alfyn's brows shot up a little as she started singing. Not that he could tell what the words meant or anything, but that didn't really matter. Miss Kaname had a nice voice, soft and sweet. Not as husky or rich as Prim's or H'aanit's, on the really rare occasions one of them had gotten caught up in his whistling or travel-songs and joined in, but really nice.

"Amai yubi de, kono te wo tori, nee, tooi michi wo… Michibiite hoshī no anata no soba e…"

Alfyn blinked sleepily, stifling a yawn. The settee was really comfy, and miss Kaname was a good lullaby-singer.

"Sono utagoe taenai hiru sagari, mezamete futari wa hitotsu ni nari… Shiawase no imi wo hajimete shiruno deshou… Tsurete itte…" Her voice rose, soared softly, fell again, like the winds over the Flatlands in autumn, and Alfyn felt his eyelids flicker and droop. "Sono utagoe setsunaku takara kani, subete no kokoro ni hibiku no deshou… Shiawase no imi wo shirazuni nemuru yoru ni…"

For a while she just hummed, rocking her niece, and Alfyn nodded next to her on the settee, trying not to fall asleep quite yet.

"Mada shiranai, yume no mukou, nee, tooi michi wo… Futari de yukeruwa… kaze no machi e…" At last, her voice trailed off, and she carefully stood back up, her niece fast asleep in her arms.

Alfyn rubbed his face and stood up too, stifling another yawn. Every part of him ached from the long day and hard fight, and he already knew he'd ache even worse in the morning, but he still managed a smile for miss Kaname, who smiled back and walked with him as far as the stairs.

"Oyasumi, Alfyn-kun," she murmured softly, bowing slightly before turning to walk up the stairs.

"'night," he called after her quietly, scratching at his hair and not bothering to stifle the next jaw-cracking yawn. It sure was funny how much bowing everyone here seemed to do—not just for first meetings, but for farewells, pleases, thank-yous, apologies… sometimes it seemed like they did it 'just because'. People are real polite around here, too. Maybe over-polite, he mused, wandering over to the room that was left for him to use. 'specially that Truthseeker—he left Therion positively wrong-footed! Alfyn didn't think the thief would ever get used to being called 'mister' Therion by people in positions of authority. He was discomfited enough when kids did it.

Closing the door behind him, Alfyn yawned again, flicking the little lever-thing that turned the light in the ceiling on. It was too bright, stinging his eyes, and he grumbled about it as he hung his satchel on the back of a chair, kicked his boots over to the center of the room, and shrugged out of his outer clothes. Those he tossed into a pile near the end of the bed, making sure he wouldn't trip over them on his way to lie down. Then he flicked the light back off, shuffled over to the bed, and climbed under the covers.

Oh my gods, that's comfy. Alfyn could and had slept just about anywhere that wasn't a pile of broken glass, but that didn't mean he couldn't appreciate a warm, soft bed. This one wasn't just warm and soft, it smelled like sunshine and fresh air and clean linens, and Alfyn allowed himself to luxuriate in it for like, a whole ten seconds before exhaustion caught up with him and he fell into a sound sleep.

Therion woke up in a cold sweat, tumbling out of the bed onto the floor with a quiet grunt. Everything was dark, quiet, strange, and he felt his pulse hammering in his ears. Nothing smelled right, or sounded right, or felt right, and he was suddenly, sharply aware that he was alone.

Therion stood up abruptly, padding over to the door and unlocking it. A shiver crawled over his skin as he opened it a crack and slipped out, not quite shutting it all the way behind him.

Cyrus' door was directly across from his, the light still on, and Therion ghosted across the hall to test the handle. Unlocked, and Therion eased it open before slipping inside.

Cyrus was passed out at his room's desk, papers scattered across its surface and pen still gripped loosely in his right hand. Therion didn't see an inkpot anywhere, but he could still smell the faint scents of linen and lightning that always clung to the scholar's skin regardless of how recently he'd bathed, or whether he'd managed to find the lavender scent he preferred. The churning in Therion's gut eased, and he flicked off the light-lever, waited to make sure he hadn't startled Cyrus awake, and then slipped back out again, shutting the door behind him.

Olberic's door was unlocked too, and Therion eased it open. Even from the doorway, he recognized the scents of old wool and sword-oil, and heard the warrior's soft, heavy breaths. He stood there for a while, just listening, until the jittery feeling in his ankles and elbows subsided a little, and he eased the door closed again.

Alfyn's room was across from Olberic's, and Therion didn't even bother checking to see if it was locked. He knew it wasn't.

Slipping inside, he padded over to Alfyn's bed, crouching down beside it. Alfyn smelled like herbs and canvas, crushed grass and clean water and just a little bit of disinfectant sting. It clung to his stupid hair and the coat he never bothered to button properly, and Therion stayed to watch him breathe for a while, just… settling himself.

Then he went back to his own room

You're an idiot, he told himself, stripping the blanket off the bed. So what if you've been on your own for the past hand and a half of days? You've been on your own for a hell of a lot longer than that, and it didn't bother you.

Sure, on his own in Orsterra. Where he knew the language, and the customs, and the laws he broke. Where he could tell you at a glance how full someone's coin pouch was, how easy of a mark they'd be. Where he knew how to slip past the guard, how to run a con, how to convincingly sell any role he needed to.

Where his friends might be scattered across the continent, but they were all there, alive, safe.

Where he could wander down to Atlasdam and find Cyrus asleep at a library desk, steal his quills to teach him better, and get treated to a sandwich and some pretty choice ale.

Where he could drift through Goldshore or Rippletide and hear all about Tressa's newest adventures in mercantilism, make sly comments about how she was still a kid, and laugh internally as she squawked a protest.

Where he could hit the road with Primrose and H'aanit for a few months, using the dancer's charity performances as a fertile hunting-ground, or even—rarely, always under protest—taking the stage with her when a dance required a male partner. Getting used to that particular kind of attention, where people stared at you but didn't really see you, where you were a spectacle instead of a person, and you could be bare-faced and still wearing a mask.

Where he could wander the roads with Alfyn for a while, rolling his eyes at the way he still wouldn't charge his patients more than a pittance, if that. Sharing a table at the tavern, sipping mead and sampling local dishes, hiding a laugh at the dumb stories he told.

Where he could spend a few brief days in Flamesgrace, carefully not-listening to Ophilia's sermons and pretending he didn't slip stolen coin into the orphanage's charity-box.

Where he could visit Olberic in Cobbleston, avoid sparring matches with the warrior and his young prentice, and get good deals on very good knives, thanks to his connection to the mountain village's master-at-arms.

Where he was a rootless wanderer, but if he ever felt a need to stop for a while and rest, he knew all the places he could go to do just that.

The past seven days had been completely, utterly different.

So Therion told his inner voice to shut up, and carried his blanket into Alfyn's room, making a nest for himself beneath the apothecary's bed. It was dusty under there, sure, but there wasn't a single roach or louse in sight, and as long as he kept the blanket tucked in tight, no one would even guess he'd been there.

Therion made himself comfortable, and slowly fell back to sleep, lulled by Alfyn's quiet breaths and the smell of herbs and canvas.

A/N: The song Kaname sings is Kaze no Machi e from Tsubasa: Reservoir Chronicle.

A/N: …aaaand that's the end of TACO Run! Next up is Part II: TACO Salad, because the guys are all together again, but they've still got to get back home…