They returned to the inn without any detours. Itzun’s apparent disinterest—evidenced by Tara’s lack of tiredness—worried her. They wouldn’t be able to make as much progress in Sólstaður as they could in Dakari; she partially feared needing to return home just to gather more information. She didn’t trust his sincerity.

She didn’t have a reason to trust him, considering he barely even seemed like anything more than someone too immature for their age. Itzun didn’t even seem like an adult to her, much less someone she could rely on.

They each got their own rooms—Hannah didn’t mind paying for her own, and they could afford the small luxury—so Tara had one to herself. It wasn’t very large, all things considered; Matteo hesitated near the door to check up on her.

“You’ll be good on your own?” he asked kindly.

She murmured some agreement, sitting down on her bed. She made sure what she had left there was still in the bag; she didn’t have anything of importance, really, but she would rather not lose her sketchbook. Fortunately everything seemed to be there. Matteo still lingered, eventually speaking up again.

“I don’t think I’ve ever asked,” he said, “But is it…weird? To remember two childhoods?”

“I can’t say it’s strange exactly,” Tara admitted, looking up at him. “Chizuru only lived to be six or seven years old; I remember her childhood better than mine, but I don’t consider us to be the same person. I’m not who Chizuru would have grown up to become.”

Matteo paused for a second, then nodded.

“That makes sense—you didn’t grow up like she would have.” He put on something like a reassuring smile that looked more genuine than the situation actually called for. “Well, hopefully there’s more stuff for us there tomorrow. If Itzun says anything, we can go over it in the morning.”

Tara murmured some agreement; he left shortly afterwards, closing the door behind him.

She sat her things aside and laid down, the murmured conversations from outside her room serving as background noise until she fell asleep.

…

For once, seeing Itzun almost relieved her. She frowned once she saw Itzun’s smile.

“So close,” Itzun said, theatrically mournful. “You would think after fourteen years you would at least let me have one moment of happiness.”

“Being your entertainment isn’t enough?” Tara asked, even more inclined to ignore him.

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Instead of carrying on with some comment, he just sighed. She knew he expected the response; he knew enough to toy with her, and he enjoyed it. Maybe he finally acknowledged what his drive for something to watch led to—what Tara had to do, now that they were in Sólstaður. Maybe he was finally starting to consider her opinions.

With that in mind, Tara opted not to waste too much time on the opening barb exchange.

“Is there something at the memorial?”

“Most likely,” Itzun replied, nodding. He continued on with some feigned annoyance once he noticed her look. “I collaborated with Torigami—I can only manipulate Dakari, so I had to for this to be anything interesting. Because of that, I don’t know the exact steps necessary.”

“Do you have some ideas?”

“Well, chances are that the memorial is related,” Itzun said. He stood up from his spot and began walking around her as per usual. “You should never underestimate a legend here, little one—especially one that is so specific. Your brother should be able to help with the analysis; I can’t say the same for the other one, but it’s better than going alone.”

He stopped walking for a second, but just glanced over at her instead of fully turning.

“Try looking around the area? If Torigami’s idea of entertainment is teaching humans nonsense and watching them turn it into a language, I can’t imagine it’s very elaborate.”

Tara nodded. “We can try that tomorrow, then.”

He continued pacing after she gave the confirmation. She accepted the silence until she thought of a question; Itzun apparently found it slightly amusing, considering his light chuckle when she frowned.

“Just to confirm,” Tara said somewhat hesitantly, “There isn’t anything on the first island, is there?”

“Nothing…greatly difficult, I’ll say—nothing as detailed as what’s in Dakari and Sólstaður.” The way he danced around it concerned her. “Aimiki and Itoki have been in mourning since their children’s nations fell; it’s nigh impossible to even contact them, let alone convince them to participate in entertainment.”

He circled her for a little bit longer. It used to bother her when he did that; now she understood it was his way of taking advantage of whatever time he had to move around, but she believed he missed when she would be bothered. At this point Tara just had to wait for him to let her leave.

Instead, Itzun took half a minute or so to continue walking around before going up to her and bending down.

“I’ve told you that you’re an odd one, right?” he asked oddly innocently. “You remembered your caretaker when you hadn’t seen her in over a decade; you remember your childhood, but not until today did you know what that girl’s name was.”

“You would have more of a reason for that than I would,” Tara replied.

“True.” He took a different position, backing away from her slightly to give her more space. “I think I just underestimated how willing the people of the first island would be to live rather than stay like they were. Even your appearance is different than I thought.”

Itzun took another second to consider it, then stood up with a smile.

“Regardless, I’ll let you go for now,” he said. “That’s all I wanted to say. Enjoy the bitter cold for me—I don’t envy you.”