Acceptance

“So,” I said carefully, “what was that?”

I couldn't claim to know everything about Shuto, but I didn’t need his life story to know something was eating at him.

“She’s going to get hurt,” he said quietly, kicking dirt away like it had personally offended him.

I didn’t know what to say to that, but ‘it’s a war’ felt like the wrong path to take. His whole angle didn’t make sense to me in the first place, though. When I wanted Kit safe—which was always—I made sure to keep her away from the action. I took precautionary measures to keep her safe, and Shuto had been on the same page not five hours ago. That meant something else was going on, so how could I get to it?

“And you thought rushing the enemy was going to stop that?” I asked genuinely. “That doesn’t seem like your style.”

“It was her idea in the first place!” he snapped. “And waiting hasn’t done shit for us, has it?”

“But didn’t you say earlier that it wasn’t a smart plan?”

His laugh caught me so off-guard that I half expected him to turn to me with a wicked grin and reveal his evil scheme, with how unhinged it sounded. He was like a man torn to shreds by life, a pawn coming to terms with what he was. Yet even as this epiphany came, it brought nothing but bitterness to his tone.

“What the hell even is smart?” he asked. “I’ve spent years—decades—being the smart one. I knew all the known combinations of magic circles and their limitations. I was praised as the top of my field and these Taihen fuckers could do this shit the whole time?”

I didn’t know what to say to that. I understood the idea of not knowing much about our abilities, but I had no place to talk. I revelled in whimsy, and that was probably why my toys were so great for me in the first place. They thrived on randomness, something Shuto probably did not get much of doing the same things as everyone else. Honestly, it sounded like a sad life to perform the same experiments, the same steps, as so many others had.

But maybe that was the problem.

“Science is all about discovery, right?” I asked. “Before paint, things weren’t nearly as vibrant. Before toys, fun had way less options. Back then, do you think people knew those things were possible?”

He frowned, the gears turning in his head. “No. No, they didn’t.”

“So then maybe the stuff we saw wasn’t irrational,” I said slowly. “It’s just innovation at work?”

“That’s true,” he admitted, “but how can we prepare against something we don’t even know exists?”

“All we can do is try.”

He aired his frustration to the sky. “But the longer we wait to do that, the more they can prepare that we can’t fight against!”

“We’ll just have to face that when we get to it,” I said vaguely. I wished I had a better answer for him.

“Then just have me go! We have to do something!”

“But you shouldn’t be taking unnecessary risks!”

“Oh, you’re one to talk!” Shuto yelled. “At least I didn’t bring a child to the battlefield!”

I’d been waiting for this to come up. Yeah, Shuto had been great with helping me figure everything out, but I sure as hell didn’t miss the way his brows furrowed whenever he saw Kitsune. She’d actually thought he had hated her, that he was somehow immune to her adorableness—an impossible thing. But even though he loved his experiments, no one had a moral compass more sound than he did. So I decided to ignore the bushes and just come clean, even if it meant a shit ton more questions that I couldn’t answer.

“I didn’t have a choice.”

“Oh, please,” Shuto scoffed. “Riku, you didn’t have to join the army in the first place.”

“I had to do it.”

“Why? For that girl Sayuri?” He narrowed his eyes. “What about your girl?”

“She’s not my child.” I sighed, looking to the sky for comfort.

“Kit functions based on me,” I started. “You remember me telling you about my grandfather?”

“You mean the man you worship?” Shuto said. “Yeah, I remember.”

“Well, after he died, I did... nothing.” I looked down. “After all he’d been to me, I still woke up, got Kit, went to work, played games, all that shit. There was this emptiness that came with it all, and it just kept getting bigger and bigger, but I ignored it. I figured, if I just kept moving forward, it’d all be fine.

“Then one day, Kit wouldn’t wake up. I’d thought she was joking at first—she did that a lot, you know? Then I tried to touch her and just… couldn’t. It was like she was made of air. I stood there frozen for about a minute... and it all just came crashing down on me, and I knew it was my fault. If I’d just accepted that he was gone; that it hurt to be without him, she wouldn’t be fading away.”

If I closed my eyes, I would still see my vision blur as agony overtook me. I’d be able to feel the cold where Kit’s fur should have been. If I really tried, I might even be able to hear the silence drowning me, the severe lack of joy in the air. It burned my heart, remembering myself being so alone like that.

“About a few minutes after that, she woke up, and I was damn grateful she did,” I said. “But I sure as hell wasn’t going to risk it this time.”

“Riku,” Shuto said slowly. “That makes absolutely no sense.”

“We live in a world with teleporting pilots and combat-ready food,” I said dryly. “You can’t make sense of that. Not really.”

“But we’ve spent a whole week analyzing your abilities,” he protested, “and you never mentioned it once.”

“I don’t really like to think about it.” It wasn’t exactly my favorite conversation starter. ‘Oh, that kitsune I love so much? I almost lost her to my own idiocy, so of course I cherish her!’

“Then what happens if shit gets worse here, Riku?” he pressed. “What’ll you do if she collapses again?”

“As long as I’m okay, she is,” I said. “And I’ll do anything to keep her safe.”

He looked more than a little doubtful. “All we can do is try, I guess.”

“Oh, you’re quoting me now?” I scoffed. “Make sure to cite your sources when you make it big.”

“I’d rather cite Kit. She’s more marketable than you, anyway.”

“Kiiiit?”

My smile was only natural as my Kitsune peeked out, apparently done napping. Her eyes blinked innocently, completely unaware of what’d been happening. Or, mostly unaware, given that she subconsciously flew out to give me a comfort kiss. She liked to do that when I was hurt, but it had to mean something when she chose my completely healthy forehead to heal. I could also just be imagining things, but I liked my theory better.

“Can we go back now, Riku?” she asked sweetly. “I wanna talk with my friend again.”

Sasaki Haruki was a pretty nice guy, though I didn’t know much about him. He was the Fyremental who’d come face-to-face with my marbles and lived to tell the tale—or at least that’s how he spins it. Other than that, he’d been pretty off my radar until he took a knife to the side for Kyouko. I didn’t know the details that well, but Kit probably did, given that he wove the story for anyone who’d listen in the infirmary.

“Haruuuuki!” Kit sang. “I’m back!”

“Kit!” His smile was strained. “You’re just in time.”

“In time for what?”

I hadn’t taught her about this yet. I had the chance with grandfather, and again when the field was being cleared, but I’d avoided it. It felt good, not telling her these hard things. I’d thought not doing it made her safe, but she was far from that as Haruki reached his shaking hand towards her.

“Kit,” he said. “You remember what I told you, right?”

“Your hand is all shaky,” she noted.

“Yeah, yeah, but you remember, right?” he pressed.

“Of course I do, Ruki.”

She has a nickname for him.

“Yeah, yeah, so tell people, won’t you?” His smile was waning, ever so slowly. “You’ll tell them about my plans and my stories and all the shit I didn’t get to do?”

“But you can still do them once you get better!” Kit insisted.

“No, Kit, but that’s alright.” His eyes grew hazy. “I’ve got you here with me.”

“Yeah!” Her beautiful smile was a knife to my heart. “Kit will help you do all the things!”

“That sounds great, but I’d rather you do something else for me.” Even though his lashes were fluttering, even though his skin was getting paler, he still looked at her as he spoke.

“Tell my story, okay?”

She frowned. “Of course.”

“You promise?” He whispered.

“I promise.”

“Great,” his mouth slurred out. “Awesome. Tha. . .”

No one spoke. Even as his eyes went empty, and his grip dropped from hers. Once she started looking for his attention, her gaze filled with confusion, I still didn’t move. This was going to happen sooner or later, I reasoned, from the moment my stupid desires had pulled me to fight, and the second I’d let Kit speak with the Menders.

“Riku?” She asked, her voice small. “Why isn’t he talking anymore?”

“He’s not here, Kit,” I said.

“But where did he go?”

“Away.” I spoke slowly, soothingly, “to a better place.”

“When will he be back?”

“He won’t,” I said, pulling her in for a hug. “I’m sorry, Kitsune.”

Comfort didn’t stop my next words from being anything other than empty.

“He’s gone.”