“This will hurt,” Leo warned the child. “If you don’t make any noises, then we can buy you something nice on the way back home.”
The little boy must be terrified, but Elina had to admire how he put on a brave face. His parents weren’t openly from the first island, so they couldn’t exactly confirm if he would be sufficient.
Still, if she had to return here regardless, she might as well test her luck. In the worst case scenario, the boy would have some emotional scarring and Elina would have nothing to show for it. The boy himself seemed to believe in the stories they told him on the way there, however—how him and his family could live far away from here, someplace where its beautiful and problems got solved quickly and no one had to fight.
Only Leo and the child stepped inside the rope fence, while Elina stood just outside to either catch the boy should he run or make sure no one saw the business and thought it more troublesome than it was. Most people in the area knew what the gravestone held and believed in it, but it could go against her if the boy turned out to be useless. Broad daylight may not be the best time to do this, but Elina didn’t want to wait even a few more hours.
She could tell Leo tried to be gentle with the boy; considering the two seemed to get along somewhat well, she assumed Leo had made a friend of the child before this. He always did have easier time talking to those younger than him—even a relatively quiet person can seem like a strong role model if your admirer was four, five, maybe six years old. He took out a small knife—earning a frown from the boy but nothing more—and cut the boy’s finger just enough for it to bleed.
“Put your cut hand on the gravestone,” Elina instructed from her spot. The boy obeyed the command, and she continued. “Now bind your blood—just the blood from the cut, not your whole body—to it.”
The boy murmured some quiet agreement, closing his eyes and adopting a look of deep concentration. When he pulled his hand away, his blood—not nearly as much as Rene had shed at the same place, being little more than a thin line where his hand was injured—seeped into the gravestone like before.
Elina found herself smiling as the gravestone shifted to a red that natural stone couldn’t possess, and the boy looked up at Leo for some kind of approval.
“Good job,” he said kindly, patting the boy’s head. “Thank you, Kuno. Why don’t we get something to clean that up with? Then you and I can head home.”
“I’ll come too,” Elina said, looking at her brother as he led the boy out of the shrine area.
Leo frowned a bit. “Father…won’t be pleased.”
If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.
“I know,” Elina replied simply. With some concern, she went on to explain, “For starters, I would like to see his expression when he hears I actually did what I said I would. And if he does choose to be angry at anyone, it would be me—someone will be told how disappointed Father is in them, and I’ve heard the rant enough that it doesn’t bother me.”
He didn’t seem to be entirely willing to let her take the blame, but he knew she was more than happy to. Ultimately, he offered no protest, only murmuring some half-hearted agreement.
Elina led them to where they could clean up the boy’s cut without being noticed. They took the next train to San Asari after Leo bought the boy whatever toys and candies struck his fancy.
She didn’t really dread seeing Father—instead, she hoped it might still be soon enough after the events that she could see Rene’s reaction. This is certainly one way to spend San Asari’s arts festival; she wondered if the girl’s returning memories would ruin it for them.
——
Rene didn’t think much of it when Tara leaned into her; she kept drawing for a few minutes, at least. She assumed Tara chose to stop when she flipped over a page but didn’t draw anything on it; she glanced down a few moments later to see her sleeping.
It’s been a while since she slept during the day; knowing what she was doing—who she was talking to—didn’t exactly help Rene consider it fine.
Mark looked over at Tara about the same time Rene did, likely prompted by her action and slight concern.
“She’s sleeping in daylight?” Mark asked, mostly curious. He didn’t mean anything by it, at least. “I thought she would have grown out of it.”
“It happens every now and then,” Rene replied. She didn’t know if it would be better to reposition herself to be more comfortable to lean on, or try to nudge Tara awake. “She hasn’t done this in a while, though.”
“Do you know what causes it? Omyn sleeping in the middle of the day is…not a good sign.”
She let out a faint, humorless chuckle and Mark gave a kind of apologetic look in response. She tried to clarify regardless.
“It’s nothing serious—not life threatening, anyway,” Rene explained. “We thought it was migraines at first—like what I get sometimes—but it’s just…a consequence of her being here.”
He mostly caught on without her needing to say much more; something picked up by talking to councilmen half the day, she assumed.
“Something she was born with, then?”
“Yeah. We can’t do much more than be patient with her.”
Mark murmured some agreement and didn’t ask after it further. Rene returned her attention to Tara.
Hopefully she wouldn’t be kept for too long. Even if Tara didn’t like crowds, being out and about wouldn’t be the same if she wasn’t there to be with the rest.