Yumi and the Nightmare Painter(126)

I kept the crown though. It was a special kind of awful.

“What happened?” she asked.

“Remember that time I got my memories stolen?”

“Yes. It was hilarious.”

“It was humiliating,” I said. “I instituted protection protocols to defend me if something tried to play games with my soul. When we landed here, that machine tried to draw my Investiture. My protocols activated.”

“And turned you into a statue?”

“It…wasn’t exactly what I’d hoped would happen.”

She smirked at me. Insufferable creature. Then she waved around with two eager hands. “I started a restaurant!”

“Yes, I was aware for much of it,” I said.

“Sounds awful!”

“You have no idea.”

“Nope! Any desire to stick around until the next pickup in three years?”

“None whatsoever.”

Outside the front window of the shop, Painter and Yumi passed, supporting one another. They looked like the way it felt to spend three years being a coatrack. In other words, terrible. They paused just outside and kissed, but we’ll get to that.

“How are we getting away?” I asked Design.

She disappeared behind the counter, then emerged with a large stack of papers. “I have a plan.”

“Delightful,” I said, finding a handful of individually packaged condiments in my pocket. Who had put those in there?

“Yup. You imitate one of their astronauts. We steal their ship. It should be able to get us to Iron Seven Waystation.”

“You need all of that?” I asked, pointing at her huge stack of papers. “To explain such a simple plan?”

“What? This isn’t my plan. These are my recipes.”

“Wonderful.”

“They mostly aren’t. You have no idea how many different combinations of edible ingredients produce something completely inedible! It’s fun.”

“No it’s not.”

“It’s fun,” she said, “if someone else is tasting them.”

I smiled. “Let’s go steal a spaceship.”

“Finally!” she said, grabbing her recipes. “I’m ready.”

“No worries about abandoning your restaurant?”

“Nope! I willed it to someone. Well, two someones.”

“Can they cook?”

“Who cares? Let’s go!”

And so, I escaped that dreadful planet. Such was the actual point of this story, if you hadn’t noticed. Pay attention. And stop encouraging rogue participants to go off script.

I suppose, though, you want some loose ends tied up. Design gets letters from Masaka once in a while with updates, and I was able to send some inquiries to get more details. You should be thankful to her and the others, as this is the type of story I’m only able to tell you because I have the permission of those involved.

You’ll be happy to know the planet, Komashi, survived. (Find it in the UTol system, in dual orbit with the planet UTol—which you might have heard about for other reasons.) The emergence of the sun didn’t cause an utter catastrophe on Komashi, though they did learn the hard way about sunburns.

Turns out, a number of the spirits liked being hion lines, and were persuaded to continue in that service—with proper payment. That kept the heat of the ground down to something manageable. There were plants in the ruins of Torio City they could use to start new strains of crops, and the old ones would still grow by hion, if kept in the shade.

It was difficult for a while, but society didn’t collapse. Evidently the sky can fall and most people will still get up the next day and go to work. I hear the planet is delightful to visit these days. Warm floors. Flying plants. Neon nights. I wouldn’t know, as I’m never going to go back.

If you do go, though, stop by the Noodle Princess. I hear it has some of the best food around. And of course there’s the attached art gallery. Full of paintings and stacked-up stones. Just don’t sneeze.

Painter and Yumi, well, they never told anyone about what had happened to them—though they did eventually manage to convince their friends that she was his secret girlfriend from another city, not his sister. A fact confirmed by his parents when they arrived in a tizzy, worried about what had become of their son during the upheavals.

Nightmares went away forever, at least the living kind. Which meant no more need for painters. Those poor Dreamwatch members had to get jobs at their mommies’ and daddies’ corporations instead. At Painter’s insistence, his friends told everyone that Usasha—the only painter to die in the attack—had been the one to mobilize everyone. She was given the honors.

At the end of it all, Painter and Yumi just wanted a quiet life with each other. Who would have guessed? If you visit, tell them I sent you, as Yumi and Painter do like offworld visitors. Just don’t overstay your welcome, try not to out their story to the locals, and be sure to tip your server well. And if you think of it, point out how humanlike she’s acting. Masaka is increasingly comfortable with others knowing what she is, but she—like all people—still appreciates a compliment now and then.

Oh, and if you’re worried, the planet didn’t end up needing yoki-hijo to appease the spirits anymore. Turns out the things really, really like historical dramas.