.
.
"What do you mean?" Her mama said.
Sayaka watched, hidden behind the doorway, as her mama railed against her papa, hands tightening into fists and voice rising to a barely controlled pitch. "What do you mean, I can't hug my own daughter?"
"She might gore you to death," her papa said. His voice was low, quiet. "Anko. As much as it pains me to say this, our daughter is dangerous. She should not be with the others. She is a danger to the other children as well."
"So what are we supposed to do?" Her mama asked. "Put her in a cage?" Her mama's face wrenched. She looked like she was going to cry.
Sayaka's eyes widened. With one swift movement, her papa pulled her mama into his arms, hugging her tighter than she's ever seen. She'd never seen her papa hug her mama. Never. But now he was hugging her and kissing the sides of her face, and it scared her a little, because her papa was a stranger and her mama shouldn't care.
Sayaka pulled her knees to her chin, hugging herself. Weeks had passed since the last attack, and Sayaka was sure the bone spell wouldn't happen again. Sure, except when her shoulder inexplicably ripped out of its socket during homeroom: her classmates had screamed and she nearly impaled her teacher in the process. Sayaka squeezed her eyes. She is a danger to the other children as well.
The door opened. Sayaka looked up. Her papa was staring down at her, frowning.
"Come," her papa said.
Sayaka stood and followed him outside.
xXx
.
It was nighttime already, but strangely the sky was more of a burnt orange than black, the ghost light of the signal flares wafting in the distance. Her father sat beside her on the porch and wordlessly took out a knife. Sayaka watched as her father held up his hand and cut deeply into his skin.
Sayaka startled. "Watch," her papa said, and Sayaka watched how the skin around the gash began to heal.
"There is a reason why our bloodline limit is so rare," her papa said. "Muscle and soft tissue are lacerated with each technique, and there is no way to avoid the arteries and veins coursing throughout our bodies. Most bleed to death when they first manifest. But I will teach you how to overcome that," her papa said. The cut sealed. He held up his hand, showing her. "I will teach you how to gain control."
Sayaka's eyes burned. Around her, crickets were chirping, and glowing motes of fireflies pulsed gently against the nighttime sky.
"You are afraid of me," her papa said. Sayaka looked up.
Her papa. His face, long and gaunt, pale hair hanging in loose strands around his throat, the blood-red maro-mayu rimming his eyes.
Sayaka stared at her hands. The nails on her thumbs were chewed down to the quick; scuff marks lined her knuckles. "It is my fault," her papa said. The wind moved and he squinted out into the horizon, at the dark shape of the forest and the line of trees. "After the war you had already grown. I did not know how to endear myself to you. I am sorry. I have not been much of a father to you."
"S'okay," Sayaka said. Her papa pressed a hand against her head, heavy and almost affectionate. Sayaka's eyes widened.
Her papa wasn't smiling, but his eyes almost did. And for once she didn't feel afraid.
"Come," her papa said, and he stood. "Your mother is waiting."
And Sayaka nodded, brushing the back of her pants and following her papa into the house.