Yumi and the Nightmare Painter(34)

“You’re thinking about something,” she said to him.

“I can’t help thinking,” he complained. “I don’t want to stop, regardless. I like thinking about things.”

“You will control even those enjoyable thoughts better,” she said, “when you are experienced at meditation.”

“There’s more to life than control.”

“Try it,” she said, centering herself again. “Practice. You’ll see. The best artists can focus far better on their art after training to meditate. Control leads to focus and focus to accomplishment.”

“Depends on what you want to accomplish.”

The two continued to kneel, and now Yumi found it difficult to stop thinking. About him. Not that there was anything specifically appealing about Painter. It was just that she’d never imagined kneeling in a shrine beside someone. It was…a thing that married couples did.

Not an experience for her. To marry would be to defy the spirits and the gift they’d granted. To have a love, to have a family, would be to turn her back on her duty. She was a precious resource, and absolute dedication was required.

Yet strangely, many of her world’s favorite stories involved a yoki-hijo falling in love. Liyun had rightly tried to keep them from her, but Yumi had heard the tales from Samjae—a yoki-hijo she’d been friends with when they were young—who had relayed them with a gleeful air of transgression.

Samjae said transgressive stories were the best. Because forbidden love somehow tasted the sweetest.

“Nice,” Painter said, shaking the shrine as he stood up. Yumi started, thinking he’d somehow sensed her thoughts. But he was referencing Liyun approaching up the path. “This means we’re done, right?”

“Right,” Yumi said, standing. “Let’s go summon the spirits.”

He nodded and took a step forward. Then he paused. “Wait. I can’t believe I’ve never asked this, but how do we summon them? You said something about art the other day?”

“Yes, it’s easy,” she said. “All you have to do is stack some rocks.”



* * *




It was time to test Yumi’s theory.

She considered it as Painter entered the place of ritual, the fenced-off section of ground where stones had been placed for him. Townspeople gathered along the fence, musicians at the ready, and Yumi remained behind with them—until Painter was distant enough that she was pulled, against her will, a few steps inside.

He looked back at her, noticing the pull. She nodded to him encouragingly. Earlier she’d said that his task would be easy. That was sort of an untruth. Learning to properly stack rocks was difficult, and had been a large part of her training.

But she had a suspicion that it would be easy for him. That was the realization she’d come to while bathing, and it would explain so much. The spirits had come to her begging for help—yet Yumi had not been enough. She wasn’t skilled enough; wasn’t good enough. She was inadequate.

So they had sent someone who could do what she couldn’t. Painter might not be a hero…but he might be a prodigy. That would explain why they’d picked him. She was now confident that he’d prove to be a natural at stacking, blessed with talent beyond her own even though he’d never known it on his world. The answer was so obvious it made her smile.

She was able to maintain this happy delusion right up to the moment he “stacked” his first rock. It fell.

The very first rock he placed fell. Somehow he managed to fail at balancing a large flat piece of stone on the ground. It toppled to the side and rolled away.

The townspeople behind Yumi gasped. Painter didn’t notice—just gave a goofy smile and piled up some other rocks like he was…pushing blocks into a heap. He didn’t even manage this without squishing his finger, which made him yelp and shake it.

Yumi glanced to Liyun, who watched with a slack jaw, horrified.

Painter put a rock on top of his pile, which collapsed. Then he looked to Yumi and gestured. “Like this?” he asked. “How’s it look?”

Oh no, Yumi thought. Oh, spirits. No.

They were in serious, serious trouble.





Painter woke in his rooms back in his world, the indignity of the rock fiasco fresh in his mind.

He still didn’t understand what he’d done wrong.

No, wait.

He didn’t understand what would have been right. Rocks? What had been the point of those rocks?

Yumi sat up from the blanket on the floor, her hair a twisted mess. “Ow,” she said softly. “I think I…somehow slept on my nose…” She focused on him, and despite the frizzy hair and rumpled pajamas, she became more commanding. “You have failed.”

“I stacked the rocks!” he said, sitting up. “I did it six different ways before you had me leave.”

As the people watching had grown increasingly distraught, Yumi had told him to plead fatigue to Liyun. The dignified woman, plainly troubled by whatever it was he’d done wrong, had led him back to the wagon, where he’d succumbed to sleep. He probably hadn’t even been awake six hours. Something about this transfer seemed to require a lot of energy, and they tired far faster than normal.

“The stacking,” Yumi said, standing up and putting her hands on her hips, “must be done with skill and artistry.”