Yumi and the Nightmare Painter(70)

“I’m glad,” she whispered at last, “to know. Even if it hurts to realize how I’ve been lied to. Even if I’m not happier right now. I’m glad to know. So thank you. For pushing for the truth.”

“I didn’t do it to find the truth,” he whispered back. “I was annoyed and reckless.”

“That’s what you needed to be,” she said. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe the spirits wanted this for me.”

She had trouble imagining that to be true. Likely thousands of yoki-hijo had lived following the traditions she had. If the spirits had disliked this style of treating their servants, then surely they’d have done something about it long ago. The shifts in how her kind were treated seemed more cultural than doctrinal.

Though that raised an ugly question: Did the spirits care at all? She’d talked to them, interacted with them, petitioned them. They didn’t think like people did. Didn’t understand as people did. So why would they care whether she ate her own food or was served by someone else?

Before, her trust in the system had prevented these kinds of questions. Now no such barrier remained. Could she visit Torio City? Could she know her family? Have friends? Could she have something that resembled a normal life?

What even was a normal life?

“What is it like?” she asked softly. “Being able to decide for yourself what to do each day?”

“You’ve tasted it a little in my world. It’s like that.”

“It must be overwhelming,” she whispered, “to simply…be able to do anything. To be able to make friends with whoever you want. Pick your profession. I can barely select a broth for noodles. You’re so good at all of that, Painter. How?”

“It’s…not as easy for me as you think, Yumi.”

She turned her head in the water and looked toward him floating there, staring at the sky. What did he think when he saw the plants up there, so high? When he watched the flocks of butterflies scatter as crows soared past, sending individual plants spinning? Did he see freedom, or something else?

“Just because you can talk to anyone,” Painter said, “doesn’t mean you will know what to say.”

“Is that why things are so strange between you and the other painters? You all have so many things you could say, that you don’t know what to say?”

“Something like that.”

“You could make other friends,” she said.

“I’ve never really known how,” he said, his voice low as he drifted. “It should be easy. Everyone else makes it seem that way. But…if that’s the case…why didn’t it work for me?”

“You didn’t try hard enough, maybe?” she said.

“That’s what my parents say,” he said. “That I should just go…try. ‘Just go talk to someone!’ they’d say. So I would. I’d gather my courage, stumble over, and say the wrong things. I’d feel like an awkward fool, and people would laugh at me. After that my parents would say, ‘Well, you shouldn’t have done it that way, son.’ But what is the way?”

He turned his head to look toward her. “I know it sounds ridiculous to you. I had all the opportunities. My life was easy, liberated. But…I always felt like I was standing on the other side of a large glass window. I could see the world passing beyond it, could even pretend I was part of it. But that barrier was still there. Separating me from everyone else.” He looked away. “That sounds stupid, doesn’t it?”

“No…” She closed her eyes. “I understand invisible walls, Painter.”

She let her hand float outward, near his. She could feel him doing the same, reaching toward her, then stopping. And she wondered. She could touch the water, float in it, because she felt she should. She could pick up clothing for a similar reason.

Was there a version of this, a way of thinking, where she could touch him? She let her fingers brush his.

It didn’t work—instead of feeling his fingers, she felt that shiver, that burst of warmth travel up through her arm and strike her to the core. She gasped, splashing upright at the shock of it. Then she sank down so only her head showed. He sputtered and turned toward her, water streaming across his face.

“Painter,” she said, eager. “Let’s break the rules. Even Liyun agrees…I can do that! Let’s try it.”

“Isn’t that what I’ve been doing?” he said, wiping his face.

“Let’s do something more,” she said, her eyes wide. “Let’s do something crazy. Something unexpected.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know! You choose. You’re the one with free will.”

He raised an eyebrow at her.

“I might have it too,” she admitted, “but mine is provisional. Come on. What are we going to do?”

He studied her for a moment, then blushed deeply. What was that about?

Oh.

“Seriously?” she said, splashing him. “That’s where your mind went?”

“You’re surprised?” he said, gesturing. “Really?” He shook his head, then began soaping up to start the actual bathing part of, well, bathing.

She considered, and soon felt foolish for her sudden impulse to violate rules. What would she have done if she’d been alone? Run through the town insulting people? Stare at each and every person instead of lowering her eyes? A part of her was tickled at the thought.