Yumi and the Nightmare Painter(46)

“I don’t think I’m dead,” he said, whispering for some reason. “A couple days ago, I started waking up on her world! I think it’s the star—like, I think I’m visiting it. Then when I fall asleep, I wake up back here—but I’m like a ghost, and somehow she’s here now.”

Design looked at Yumi, then stuck out her hand. “Hello! Would you like to shake meat-appendages?”

“Uh…” Yumi took the hand, then bowed. Strangely, Design didn’t bow back, but only waggled her hand a little.

“Nice to meet you,” Design said. “You’re not a ghost.”

“We haven’t been able to figure out what’s going on,” Painter said. “Or why I wear her body when I’m in her world, but she doesn’t wear mine when she’s here.”

“Uh, Painter?” Design said, nodding her head toward Yumi. “Yeah, that’s totally your body.”

“But…” he said. “It looks like her. Even to you, right?”

“Yup,” Design said. “But I can see the line of Connection from you to it. I’ve got this, um, strong Cognitive aspect? Hard to explain without numbers, and mortals get cross-eyed when I use those instead. I’m not really here, like I’ve told you, so I can see Cognitive Shadows even when they don’t want to be seen. Also, your body is a girl’s body now.”

“What?” Painter said.

“Who are you?” Design said, ignoring Painter and looking at Yumi. “You’ve got a storming strong Spiritual aspect, highly Invested in some strange way. Otherwise you wouldn’t have been able to rewrite his body with your soul and warp it to match your sense of self. Shrinking and reshaping the bones, stretching and shifting the muscles… Fun stuff.”

Painter’s face paled.

Yumi tried to take it in stride. “I…didn’t mean to do any of these things, honored hostess. It was done by the spirits because of some kind of desperate need.”

“Yeah,” Design said. “Um, that’s some seriously hard work you did. Bet you’re hungry.”

“Ravenous,” Yumi admitted. “Though not so bad today as the last time I came to your world.”

“Should get easier each time,” Design said. “The body will fight you less and waste less energy trying to snap back to looking like him. Still, I should feed you. It’s, like, my job. I’m employed!” She popped up from behind the bar and shooed Yumi back to a stool, though they’d barely cleaned up half the mess. Design did the rest quickly and efficiently, while Painter stood morosely nearby.

“I don’t want to be a girl,” he said.

“Oh hush,” Design said, quickly mopping the floor. “I’ve been pretending to be one for years now, so I’m an authority—and it’s really quite nice. Except for the sexism. But it’s hard to blame that on being a woman instead of on, you know, morons.” She paused, then smiled at Painter. “Don’t look so glum. Your body will probably snap back to your shape once she’s no longer attached to it.”

“Probably?” he asked.

“Definitely probably.” She handed him the mop, which slipped through his incorporeal fingers as soon as she let go of it. Which caused her to snicker. “What?” she asked at his offended expression. “Just doing some tests.”

She gathered the bucket and mop and stalked into the kitchen again. Painter rounded the bar, then slumped down next to Yumi. She, in turn, glanced around the room—but no one seemed to be paying much attention to them. Akane was gazing toward Yumi as if to check on her, so Yumi gave her what was hopefully an “I’m good” gesture.

“Why is no one bothered,” Yumi whispered, “by the things Design is saying and doing? Ghosts? Dropping a mop? Talking to the air?”

“This place is mostly full of longtimers,” Painter explained, his voice sullen. “They’re…accustomed to Design. She acts like this even on normal days.”

“I ignore social boundaries,” Design said, bustling out of the kitchen with a bowl of soup for Yumi. “It’s endearing.”



She set the bowl down and leaned forward. People on this planet…really liked their low-cut tops, didn’t they?

“Eat,” Design said, pointing.

Yumi started eating. It was a stronger flavor than she was used to—in fact, it was also a stranger flavor than she was used to. Spices she’d never tasted mixed in her mouth, making it wake up from a long slumber. The first spoonful was a lot. The second was satisfying. The third…divine.

“Usually,” Painter said, “you use the maipon sticks to eat the noodles.”

Yumi glanced at the sticks, which she’d seen her attendants use to feed her. She’d never held any herself. So she stuck with the spoon.

“I still don’t understand,” Painter said to Design, “why you can see me.”

“It’s technical,” Design said. “It’s mostly because I’m not actually human, but an immortal essence of pure Investiture with an imitation human fleshy-type shell stapled on.”

Yumi paused, her spoon trailing noodles halfway to her mouth. She tried to parse that sentence—which was difficult—but came to the obvious conclusion.