In the end, Hikaru and I do agree to share a room.
"Sorry," Alesha says, shrugging, having taken me aside to discuss it. "Sekhmet would have been willing to room with you instead - I just thought it might be more comfortable for Ace."
I nod. It's not like I've told her - and it's not like I'm sure, either - about what Ace and I have already talked about. And besides...
"...No, I get it," I say, trying to keep my jaw from clenching. "She shouldn't have to worry about Hikaru, and 15 gold a night is too much for three rooms. 10 gold a night is too much for two, as it is."
"It is what it is," she says, shaking her head. "It'll be just like our time at Fanime last year."
I sigh. "Not just," I say. "But we'll find the fourth guest in the girl's room soon enough, at Caer Ilswyn."
She hugs me, for the third time today.
The first thought that goes through my head is I could get used to this. If it doesn't get awkward once she knows what I'm going through, anyway.
I break away. "Good night, Leesh," I say, starting for my room on the second floor.
"Good night, Jake," she says, and I manage to wince only after she turns for her room on the first.
Sighing, I ascend the steps and knock on the door.
It opens, and I see Hikaru in a small, cream-colored underrobe.
"Come in," he says. "And I'll step out while you dress for the night."
"It's... not like this is my actual body," I say, trying to sound nonchalant.
"Bullshit," he says, soothingly. "I need something warm to drink before I sleep anyway. Just leave the door unlocked, I'll knock."
I don't care to argue. There's not much I have to wear as pajamas, and I like sleeping naked anyway... which just got awkward as hell. Right.
For now, I just take off the outer robes and the prayer beads - and after some debate, my belt, shoes, and socks, as well. That just leaves the blue underskirt and a loincloth, which I can take off under the sheets.
Where Hikaru can't see.
The lights here are low oil lamps - it's dim as hell in here. I do manage to put everything of mine into the chest at the foot of the bed, and glimpse myself in the reflection of the window leading outside.
And I'm beautiful.
I hadn't actually seen myself since I came here, I don't think.
I run a hand over my own soft cheek. It shouldn't surprise me that I look good - I've got, as Hikaru said to me earlier, proper art direction, now - but it does surprise me that my first thought wasn't that I look hot, or even that I look good, but that I'm beautiful.
There's a knock at the door, pulling me out of that thought. "I'm decent," I shout at the closed door.
"Alright, then," Hikaru says, opening it.
He takes one step in, closes the door with his foot - as he's carrying two mugs of something that steams - looks up, and stops, for just a second.
"Yeah, I had that reaction too," I say, grateful that the lights are low here and that my blush is hard to see. "Art team did a good job."
"You wear it well," Hikaru says, nodding, as he presses the cup - just a shade under too hot to hold - into my fingertips. "A lot better, I should say, than the t-shirts and shorts you had back home."
"And the rolls of fat," I add, voice flat.
He pauses, before nodding.
"You know, I spent a good deal of my childhood out of shape," he said. "My parents, bless them, let the internet and the television babysit me with... mixed results, though it did actually help with my grades. I wasn't very invested in inhabiting my body, you see."
"I thought that might be the punchline," I murmur, blowing on my... is that coffee? It smells like coffee. "But once you realized you wanted a to be a boy -"
"- and a heroic one at that," he said, and I could hear the smile in his voice. "I wanted to be a Kikaiser, as a child, and it wasn't until I was 12 that I saw a story about a woman who wore the belt. Which was about when I started to realize it wasn't, ah, belt envy driving my 'I wish I was a boy' sentiments."
"Nano, right?" I said, and sipped. Cafe au lait with a touch of chocolate, and chicory, lightly sweetened. Odd drink before sleeping. "Masamiko Akane, the brilliant chemist who'd always find the solution. I remember that one. That one fucking slapped, sandwiched between two of the worst in Heisei."
"Still my favorite," Hikaru agreed. "...the point being that I frequently saw what a Kaiser looked like shirtless, what with the show also being marketed towards my mother. And once I determined that the raw masculinity of a toku stuntman was my goal -"
I laugh, along with him.
"- although I did have more, ah, data points than just tokusatsu shows in my in-depth research into gender studies, that was the spark," he says, solemnly. "Kikaiser saved my life. A maudlin, embarrassing, terminally online statement, that happens to be factual and true. I would like to pay that debt forward, if I can."
As he says that, I notice through the gloom that he's looking right at me, right in my eyes - no, just above my eyes. Listening, intently, to my reaction to a story that I don't think he's told anybody else in the company.
"You thought I was an egg ever since I patched you up, huh," I say. It's... easier to say it, now.
"I had my suspicions," he says, nodding. "Though I'm not a fan of the term. 'Egg,' I mean. For one thing, it's a joke that assumes transfemininity -"
"Does it?" I ask, shifting on the bed to get more comfortable.
"Well, when an egg hatches, it's a chick that comes out, isn't it?"
There's a long moment of silence before I facepalm.
"How did I never get that pun," I groan.
"You're not the first person surprised to learn it," Hikaru assures me. "...but also, much like a real egg, it's not a term to be thrown around carelessly. Nor would assumptions about any other form of queerness, really."
"Imagine if they got back to bullies, or coworkers, or parents," I murmur. "Egg on your face."
"Or parents, yes," Hikaru says, flatly, as he adjusts his collar.
That's definitely a subject for, if not later, than not now. I sip my coffee, allow him to change it.
"I didn't want to make assumptions, or... push you into it if I was wrong," he said. "But if it were true, I didn't want you to have to suffer alone. Not like me," he says, voice distant, for a moment.
"So you came out to me instead."
"It seemed safe enough," he said. "Given the way you doted on Jasmine at the convention."
I nod. "You weren't wrong," I say. "On either point."
He finished his drink, set it aside, and lay down. Then, frowning, lay on his side.
"Wings getting in the way?" I ask.
"Yes," he says, clipped. "Sensitive, apparently, and fragile even when folded. I'm not well pleased about looking like a fifteen year old boy."
"You do not," I insist. "You look like an adult Pixie, your face is plenty mature."
He takes in a deep breath, before letting it out again.
"I appreciate the vote of confidence," he says. "I would appreciate it more if it weren't a minority opinion. Too many Mundanes I met in the library who weren't Pixies enquired after my parents."
I wince and hiss in a breath. "Fantasy racism is alive and well, I guess," I say. "At least no one's hassled me for -"
But I don't look Korean now. I look like a Vulpecian, maybe even a white one.
"A fair number of Adventurers, as well," he says, shaking his head as he pulls the covers up. "Some of them playing Pixies... usually in childish clothing. Attempts at gothic lolita," he snarls. "Or anything 'lolita,' really."
"Being treated like a kid would drive me up the wall," I agree, lying down myself, setting aside my coffee on the bedside table - largely undrunk.
"The worst," he gripes, "are the players who flirted with me, WHILE doing the cutesy Pixie routine. Do the math on that one."
"I refuse to, and will only comment that anime was a mistake."
He chuckles. "As the late, great, lamented Miyazaki was fond of being misquoted as saying."
It takes me a second to parse that.
"I guess I can't argue with that," I say.
"It's a shame, really," Hikaru says, sighing. "Some of the adventurers I met were rather charming... until I realized they were hitting on me in the same breath as they were treating me like a teenager."
I grunt assent, staring up at the ceiling for a moment.
"Well," I say, "I want it on the record that you're probably the most mature member of this queer clusterfuck of a party, and anyone with a lick of common sense will see that instead of your being four foot whatever. So, not as many as you'd like, but..."
"But enough," he says. "I do appreciate it. Thank you."
There is a moment of silence and understanding that passes between us.
Then I reach out my hand, fingers on the knob of the oil lamp.
"Can I turn this off?" I ask.
"And mine as well," Hikaru says, reaching over - then sighing, mumbling into his palm, and pointing that palm at the lamp.
A trail of sparkling blue lights settled around the lamp's knob and twisted down, before fading. The sight is - I'm not sure why it's breathtaking, this casual use of magic, but it is.
"Wow," I say.
"Good night, Deedee," Hikaru says, turning away from me.
"Good night, Heeks," I murmur, turning my lamp off.
