Chapter 17

Keflavik, Iceland

Thursday, October 13th, 2050

“Good morning, Kasasagi.”

I had a moment’s confusion at hearing Mariko’s voice. Hadn’t I gone to bed with Heida the night before? I certainly had the normal, pleasant aches from a night’s work well done. What was Ms. Yamada doing in Heida’s apartment? There was no way I could have talked her into a ménage à trois, though the image roused me from my sleep.

Memories fell into place; how I’d left Heida’s place in a state of satisfied exhaustion, snuck inside our rented home, and then promptly passed out in my bed.

My eyes flew open. She was wearing a plain, white, conservatively cut nightgown, which made me conscious of what I felt beneath my blankets. Damnation, I hadn’t changed into my own nightclothes! I pulled up my covers further, grateful I’d had the presence of mind to crawl into bed instead of simply flopping down upon it. My heart raced. Did I smell like alcohol? For that matter, did I smell like Heida? I doubted Mariko would approve of my activities, and I doubly doubted Mr. Maki would.

I smirked as my memory played back flashes of my tryst with Heida. Worth it.

“And a good morning to you, Ms. Yamada. Can I ask…” I trailed off as a delightful, bready scent hit my nose. I found the source of it, a steaming pair of rolls sitting on my writing desk. “Oh, I see what you’re here for.”

“You do?”

“Yes, and it’s a cruel trick,” I said. “You made yourself a homemade breakfast and you’re going to make me watch you eat it as revenge for what I said last night. Well, I’ve been tortured by better than you! Do your worst.”

Mariko’s laughter was different than Heida’s. The Icelander was always more guttural, more harsh. Mariko’s was reserved and almost musical. “Has anybody ever told you that you are ridiculous?”

“I’m sure it’s come up before,” I replied.

“I am here about last night, though,” she said. “I know you were only joking, and I could have handled that better.”

“I shouldn’t joke about such a sore spot,” I replied.

“You could have no idea how sore it was; I got an invitation from the magazine to submit another story on Monday. It was the only reason I reread my old manga.” She sighed. “To remember when I could still create.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. I suppose it’s no comfort that they liked you enough to give you another chance.”

“No, it is not. Still, you were not much happier than me last night, and I made it about myself. I wanted to make it up to you.” She set the plate on my stomach over the covers. “I know you enjoy my cooking, and I can still manage that. Please, enjoy yourself.”

Mariko looked at me expectantly. It almost felt like a trap. She couldn’t have known, could she have? It seemed like an awful lot of effort to bake something out of spite. Still, the moment I reached out for the baked good, she’d see my clothes. Could I ask her to feed me? No, that would be a rather intimate request.

Not seeing a way out, I sat up. If I was sunk, I might as well go to the gallows with a full stomach.

“I thought I heard the door close last night,” she said, looking at my exposed arm.

“So it was a trap,” I said. “You have a fiendish mind, Mariko Yamada.”

Her laughter certainly didn’t sound wicked. “Ridiculous. You are too suspicious; a huffkin is simply a huffkin.”

“A huffkin?” The rounded rolls had a hole in the top, which she had filled with some sort of red jam.

“Oh, did I pronounce it wrong? Rose says you are from Kent, and I found the recipe online. The website said it was a traditional Kentish breakfast.”

“I haven’t had them before; Mother wasn’t much of a baker,” I replied. “You don’t seem worried that I snuck out.”

“I am sure you went out to blow off some steam, and after the night you had, you needed it.”

“Isn’t that the truth.” I offered the plate to her. “Would you like one? I’d feel awkward eating by myself.”

“No, I could not possibly…” Her stomach growled and her face went red. “W-well, maybe I could possibly.” She reached out for the smaller bread, and I noticed the bandages around her fingers.

“Oh, no, did you burn yourself?”

“I had a spasm while I took the last batch out of the oven.” Mariko fidgeted uncomfortably. “Could you help me with that when you are done, please? I have never been the best at healing myself, especially not with my tremors.”

“So you did have an ulterior…” I trailed off again, noticing for the first time the tears in the corner of her eyes. “How badly did you burn yourself?” I reached out and took her bandaged hand, earning me a pained gasp. “That badly? We’ll do this first. There’s no reason to suffer in silence!”

“I did not want to be a bother again,” she replied.

“Now who’s being ridiculous? Come on, let’s see it.” I rolled up her nightgown’s sleeve, revealing some of the wound that a Holy Brother had given her with an acid spell. The healthy skin ended a few inches above the wrist, transitioning to an angry, red mass.

I turned my attention back to her hand, carefully removing the bandages. I winced at what I saw; it was better than her old scars, but I couldn’t believe she’d calmly hauled up my breakfast bearing that wound. “Holy heck, you have the pain tolerance of an orc!”

“Please, keep it down,” she whispered. “I do not want the others to know.”

I couldn’t help but roll my eyes; in her own way, Mariko had a pride worthy of a devil. “You know there’s no harm in admitting when you’re having a problem, right?”

“I could not ask Rafal or Mr. Maki. There would be many questions I do not care to answer,” she replied. “It is okay if it is you.”

“I suppose I do already know where the bodies are buried,” I said. “This is going to be a Minor Heal, yes?”

She nodded. “Please keep it away from the old wounds; it makes them burn all over again.”

Her old injury seemed to keep coming up. The League was truly desperate to force somebody like her into a combat role. There was a level where I was tempted to whip out an All Heal, Alheln in High Demonic, just to see if it could help more than this new burn. Human healing magic was more methodical, less painful. It was simply natural healing processes sped up with magical energy. Demonic magic forced the body back into its proper state, even if you bit your tongue off writhing in agony.

I didn’t try; not for the sake of my secret, but because I’d seen the agony on her face when even light healing magic went out of bounds. I couldn’t inflict that on her, even if it might do her a world of good. I was soft like that.

“Minor Heal,” I intoned. The air around her hand was filled with runes, and I adjusted the flow of magic to them with my fingers. I guided her own magical energy. It would be a slower process than I’d have liked, but the human healing spells were much gentler. They were designed to leave the flesh unscarred, and to not be agonizing. Good; she had quite enough of those to deal with.

“Where did you go last night?” she asked.

I gulped. “Careful, my dear. It’s dangerous to interrupt somebody while they’re casting healing magic. Unless you want an extra finger?”

Mariko shook her head ruefully. “It could not hurt, as useful as my hand is these days.”

“Nonsense; you’d have to get all new gloves.” I inspected my handwork and gave her a nod. “Looks right as rain. How does it feel?”

“As good as it ever does, I suppose,” she said, flexing her fingers. The slight tremor was evident, as always. “Thank you, Kasasagi. Now, where did you go last night?”

“I caught a show,” I replied.

“Is that where you got the hockey on your neck?”

“Hockey? Oh you mean…” My eyes widened and I ran my hand across my neck, finding the bump. “Hickey.”

“Yes, that is the word,” she said. I couldn’t tell if she had done that on purpose or not. “This trip has been great practice for my English; I have not had much chance to use it since I got out of school. I understand quite a bit, but I do not always know the right thing to say.” She grabbed her huffkin and dug in. “I am starving! Healing magic is always so draining!”

“You took that awfully well.”

She took a moment to wipe a dribble of warm jam off her chin. “Took what well?”

You’re going to make me say it, aren’t you? “The hickey. I… thought that might upset you more.”

She cocked her head. “Why should it? Are we dating?”

“Well, no, but…”

“But what?”

“I… confess I don’t know. You’re not the only one who isn’t always sure what to say.”

She reached out and runes spun about her hand. “Trivial Heal.” I could feel the welt on my neck vanish in an instant. “I always knew what kind of a man you are, Soren. I have felt your eyes on me often enough. I see how you look at the other girls. You have… an appetite. Kiyo broke up with you, so what could be holding you back?”

She might have not been surprised, but she certainly sounded let down.

Without waiting for my response, she stood and brushed herself off. “I came here to apologize and give you a gift, but you healed my stupid hand again.”

“You fixed my embarrassing blemish,” I said.

“We still are not even. You are always there for me, Kasasagi, but I do not think I have returned the favor. I have an idea of how to fix that, though.”

“Oh? Do tell.”

She shook her head, sending her unbraided hair tumbling about. “Surprises are more fun. The next time you go into town, please bring me along. I promise not to tell Mr. Maki.” She gestured at the plate. “Eat up; there are more waiting for you downstairs if you want it. I will leave you to it.”

What a strange conversation. Heida was so much more straightforward, almost to a fault. One thing was clear to me, though: Mariko was interested in me, even if she wouldn’t say it directly. That was her way, wasn’t it? She had agonized about confessing to Hiro for months on end, subtly buttering him up, hoping that he would make the first move.

I couldn’t do that to her, though. I had set her up with Paul Wilson as a quick fling to get her confidence up. He’d simply wanted to have his fun and move on. Perfectly sensible from my perspective, but Mariko had hoped he might be Mr. Right, and she’d been heartbroken when I had exposed his intentions.

That assumed I was even interested in the first place, and I didn’t want to spend the mental effort on hypotheticals. She was a good friend and easy on the eyes, but that’s as far as it needed to go. She didn’t need another Paul, and that’s all I could be to her. I knew myself. I was done with long attachments; they could only lead to pain. No, I needed a way to dissuade her without hurting her feelings too badly.

I groaned as I remembered why I wore a dirty shirt. How would Heida respond if she thought Mariko was sniffing around? How would Mariko react if Heida was too chummy while we were at work? Now on top of having to stay in character, I’d have to be even more guarded. It had been hard enough keeping track of Kiyo, and now there were two women to be mindful of.

Wait, I had multiple women interested in me, and I was worried about how to spare their feelings? How had I become Hiro bloody Takehara? This was too much to take in first thing in the morning on an empty stomach.

I contemplated the huffkin for a moment before devouring it. Beatles and huffkins. I kept finding the silliest things to expose my ignorance of my supposed homeland. Before, when I thought my time in the human realms would be measured in months at most, I had figured I could fake it long enough to squeak by. But it was becoming clear that attitude wouldn’t fly any longer.

Later that night, I would add a tourist’s guide to England to my phone’s digital library; All Things Great and Small could go into the backlog for a bit.