Andveryclearly not sorry.
Fuck. Aimee tore her eyes away and forced herself to refocus on Mira, trying to slow her heart and chase the heat off her cheeks.
“I thought I’d walk you down to training today.” The tall woman’s brows arched as she moved her hands to her hips. “You can update me on Shinka’s progress along the way.”
“Of course,” Aimee managed, voice just this side of hoarse.
Then, her stomach betrayed her with a loud, unmistakable growl.
Right. Food. They’d barely had time to getdressed,let alone think about eating.
“I made leaf rolls,” Shinka offered brightly, already digging into the oversized satchel slung over his mother’s shoulder. The bag nearly swallowed him whole, but he wrestled it open with practiced enthusiasm. “Here!” He lobbed the bundle her way, tripping a little as he did.
Expecting some level of clumsiness, Aimee lunged forward, caught it with the arch of her foot, and flicked it up to her hands in one smooth motion.
“Woah!” Shinka’s mouth fell open.
She winked at him, flipping the bundle once more and tossing it toward Kazuma without looking. He caught it one-handed, still reclined, still infuriatingly at ease.
Then Aimee stepped up to Mira, who was already holding another roll in one palm. The older woman handed it over with a short nod, her expression unreadable.
“Thank you.” Aimee accepted it with both hands, bowing slightly.
Shinka hadn’t stopped staring. “How’d you do that?” He kicked out one bare foot, mimicking her motion. “With your foot like that?”
She laughed, the tension from moments before fading. “We have a ball game at home.” She peeled back the charred ban-leaf wrapping. “You can only use your feet. It’s pretty fun.”
The heat hit her first. Steam rose from pan-seared okra and supple root slivers packed inside a thin millet flatbread, warm and fragrant from the smoked leaf casing, with just enough fire pepper oil to make her nose tingle.
“Smells amazing.” She took a bite, groaning.
“Only your feet?!” His eyes lit up as he immediately began scanning the ground, clearly searching for something to kick.
Behind her, Kazuma rose from where he’d been lounging to stand behind her, tracing a hand along her lower back. “And where exactly do they play that foot-game again?”
She nearly choked on her bite.
Glancing sideways, she caught Mira watching her with one dark brow raised.
“Oh, you know,” Aimee said quickly, waving the half-eaten wrap in a vague arc toward the trees beyond the village. “Out there. Somewhere.”
“Right.” A quiet exhale slipped through the other woman’s nose. Then her features softened, and she stepped closer. “I hope, one day,you’ll trust us with your story.” Her fingers grazed Aimee’s in a fleeting, maternal gesture. “Even if it’s only the snake. Everyone deserves at least one person who truly knows them.”
Kazuma didn’t speak behind her. She could feel him, though, like a shadow draped just out of reach. And something in her gut clenched, so tight it might shatter.
She didn’t flinch or draw her hand away. But a twitch passed across her cheek even as she forced herself not to react, not to feel the way her stomach had just hollowed out at the words.
“It’s not that interesting.” The words barely escaped through the ringing in her ears. “Really.”
More deflections. The truth was, she didn’t know how to talk about it. Not the before. Not what she remembered. And not what she didn’t. Even the scraps she clung to would sound insane if she ever said them aloud.
Best to keep it buried.
Best to enjoy the peace here, however long it lasted.
She shoved the rest of the food into her mouth, chewing hard and fast, grateful for the excuse not to speak.
“Are we going or what?” she mumbled around the mouthful, shooting Shinka a look and jerking her chin toward the door.
