FUKASHI

Without looking up, the girl walks slowly into the apartment, keeping her head ducked. She leans slightly to the left, unused to the unbalanced weight of her body. Fukashi shoos Arthur back so he can close and lock the door behind her, sliding a web of shadow over the width of the frame for good measure. When he turns around, the little girl is staring at him, her eyes as boldly blue as a Malroix’s. Of course, Malroix eyes come in purples and grays as well, but blue is the most common color.

Busuruli eyes are gold though. She must not be full-blooded.

Fukashi shifts his attention to Arthur. Cel has finally unlatched herself from his neck, but still sits comfortably against his chest. She stares hard at the other child in the room, a hostility on her face that he has never seen in her before.

Arthur notices it, too. He kisses her cheek and sets her down. She leans against his leg and curls her fist into the fabric of his trousers, her red eyes trained upon the stranger in their home.

Fukashi wants to cling to Arthur too, but he can’t just yet. Something strange writhes in his gut, not the shadows he’s used to, but trepidation.

“To the living room?” he says, and Arthur nods. He tugs Cel along and gestures at the other girl. They crowd into the small living room, Arthur practically collapsing onto the two-seater couch and dragging Cel into his lap. It’s only then that Fukashi notices the dampness of Arthur’s hair and clothes, but it’s not surprising. The rain is lighter outside now, but it is still coming down.

As Cel wiggles around to get comfortable, Fukashi grabs a chair from the dining room and sets it across from the couch. He gestures for the other girl to sit on it, then props himself against a wall with a weary sigh. He wants badly to snuggle up to his family, but he won’t let their collective presence scare the child too badly. Cel’s doing a good enough job of that on her own.

Sitting awkwardly in the chair, the little girl lowers her eyes to the floor again. She looks so pathetic that Fukashi has to tamp down the urge to walk over and give her a hug.

“This is Nora,” Arthur finally says, watching the child with a closed-off expression. “Noranine Zikesh of Busurul. She’s the first heir to the Busuruli ruler. Well, she was. Her mother faces execution. Malais has won the war. It’s over.”

Even upon hearing of her mother’s doom, the girlchild doesn’t react.

“Does she speak Malroix?” Fukashi asks.

“Decently.” He starts undoing the braid in Cel’s hair. “She speaks Busurli as well, of course. Both languages are spoken on the Pink Islets.”

The Pink Isles of Busurul, an array of islets connected by bridges, named so for their pink beaches, pink defensive walls, and the pink palace at the largest island’s heart.

“Not to be rude,” Fukashi says, mainly for Nora’s benefit, “but why is she here?”

Arthur lifts a brow at him. “You brought me a daughter once. Can I not return the favor?”

“This is not nearly the same thing.” Fukashi huffs, then cocks his head as something occurs to him. “Is she meant to be a sister for Cel?”

Cel’s face turns bright red as she buries her little fingers in Arthur’s arm. She radiates fury.

“No,” she snaps, glaring at Nora with all her might.

Nora seems to shrink further into herself.

Fukashi sighs. “I don’t mind another child, Arthur, but a warning next time would be nice. At least let me warm Cel up to the idea.”

“No!” says Cel again.

Fukashi regards her with a look of warning, but she doesn’t back down. Arthur takes pride in her stubbornness. The ass. His encouragement is not appreciated.

Arthur taps her cheek with a finger, and Cel pouts at him. “Enough, Celosia. Mind your temper. I will not tolerate another charred piece of furniture.”

Saying nothing, she wedges her head up under his chin. She watches Nora, practically glowing a warning.

Stay away.

“It’s a long story, what happened,” Arthur says, running his hand through her loose hair. His eyes lock onto Fukashi, a yearning in them. “Come sit next to me.”

Fukashi can't resist any longer, nor can he allow Nora to sit alone. He stands before her and extends a hand.

“I know we are strangers,” he says when she looks up at him. Deep circles sit under her eyes, and her sclera are bloodshot. She’s cried recently. Her expression looks far too old for her young face. “I know you feel lost, but we won’t leave you adrift. Come sit with me. I promise to do you no harm.”

Cel makes a noise almost like a growl.

Arthur chides her, and Fukashi ignores them both.

“The little brat won’t hurt you either,” he says, making Cel scoff. “She’ll come around. Now come sit with us. Please?”

Nora settles her hand into his palm. He uses the connection to gently tug her toward the couch. He pulls her into his lap, careful not to jostle her right shoulder as he wedges his hip against Arthur’s. He’d let her sit beside him, but there’s not enough room.

The girls are angled so they can face each other. Cel looks like she might cry.

Fukashi speaks in his own language, just for Cel. Arthur’s not the only one who’s been teaching her in excess. “You are my daughter. I will never replace you, but we must have big hearts. Don’t be so cold. She has lost her parents.”

Her glare softens marginally, and Fukashi considers it a win. Nora relaxes against him as best she can without irritating her shoulder.

“So,” Arthur begins, smiling warmly at Fukashi, “three months ago, I was called off to war…”