Cut From A Tattered Cloth

Chapter 4

A knock came at the door.

Eijiro groaned, head throbbing as he stirred from a fitful sleep.

"Oyaji!" Melia called. "Asagohan dayo!" Breakfast is ready!

She knocked one more time, humming to herself as her footsteps padded away. She was in a good mood; Eijiro could tell from all the flowers. Creaking his eyes open, Eijiro discovered his room was lined with teuilas. The tall, red blossoms stood out against their dark green foliage. Pikake vines wrapped around the doorframe, and – as always – there were plumeria flowers on his bed.

Eijiro sat up, spluttering as tiares fell down his face. His brain hammered against his skull, making him nauseous. He pressed his palms to his eyes, wishing he had a drink. He was going on four months sober, and couldn't believe how badly he still missed the bottle. Taking a deep breath, he stared at the flowers in his lap and plucked one up moodily.

And I thought sobriety would make me feel better, he thought, spinning the flower between his thumb and forefinger. The tiare was beautiful; its fragrance sweet enough to melt the edge off his headache. Eijiro didn't find it particularly masculine to wake up like this, but Melia didn't do it on purpose. He knew her well enough to appreciate what the flowers meant.

A fourteen-year-old plant mage still learning to control her powers, Melia's magic was a direct reflection of her emotions. She grew plants the way other people grinned, frowned, or flared their nostrils. That was to say, Melia was constantly growing something – whether she was aware of it or not.

When she was scared giant thorns shot out of the ground to protect her. If she was hungry kiwi vines would sprout up to feed her. And when she was happy, well.

Eijiro tossed up the tiare, watching it spiral back into his lap. A soft grin tugged at his lips. Melia's happiness turned into flowers; and whether he liked it or not, Eijiro made Melia very, very happy.

"Oyaji?" Melia knocked again, this time turning the knob to stick her head inside. A few tufts of black hair had slipped out of her ponytail, and her eyebrows knit together in concern. "Daijoubu dayo? Koko de asagohan suru no?" Are you feeling okay? Would you rather eat breakfast here?

Eijiro grunted, waving the thought away. "Daijoubu desu," I'm fine. Then, catching himself, he switched to Zaramian. "I'll be out in a minute."

Melia nodded. "Un!" Okay!

"And practice your Zaramian," he reminded her.

Melia grinned. "Demo Oyaji no gengo hou ga suki." But I like your language better.

She left before Eijiro could get another word in. He sighed. She needed to stop doing that. Melia liked speaking his native language; she was good at it, too. In her first three weeks she was conversational and could read basic kana. Now she spoke like a native.

And Eijiro hadn't taught her anything; everything she learned was from his old comic book collection and a database she downloaded onto her wrist comm. Eijiro was impressed, but unless they were assigned to a mission in Hyounokuni she'd never have anyone to talk to.

Letting out a noisy yawn, Eijiro rolled out of bed, bracing for the way his vision swam when his feet touched the ground. He squeezed his eyes shut, biting back the curse words boiling in the back of his throat.

Kusso. He needed a drink.

"Oyaji!" Melia called, "Hayaku dette! Hara hettayo!" Oyaji, hurry up! I'm hungry!

Eijiro laughed. A part of him wished they would get assigned to Hyounokuni, if only so he could see people react to Melia. Hyounokunese were not used to foreigners speaking their language. Especially ones that looked like Melia.