Page 74 of Heir to a Curse

I looked at Xiang, having no desire to leave his side, even if I had to sit on the other side of a closed door like a sibling in a Disney movie singing about snowmen. “Is there anything you need? More food? Clothes? Books?”

Xiang sat up, looking alarmed. “Are you leaving?”

“Fuck, no. But Mr. Yamamoto is the guy who can make anything happen, so if you need something,” I pointed at my phone.

“A teapot?” Xiang asked softly.

“A traditional one?”

“Please.”

“Mr. Yamamoto?”

“Of course. I’ll have one brought up, and a choice of teas. Is our Australian guest a friend of yours?” He inquired.

Australia? Had there been a shrine there? Perhaps the location hadn’t finished bonding yet. Or that was to be my next life. However, it made sense how he’d been able to travel here at all.

“Australia?” I asked Xiang.

“They speak very… different, there. Hard to understand?”

I nodded. If he hadn’t had a couple decades to listen to them and study their culture, that made sense. “In some places.”

“I will bring up your tea,” Mr. Yamamoto said.

“Thank you,” I told him and hung up the phone. All I could see of Xiang was one glittering dark eye, his white hair pulled back, it appeared to be in a ponytail, and light clothes, though they didn’t appear to be robes. “Will you play for me?”

He glanced back into the room. “I requested it… but not the same… Sound is good?”

“Yes,” I breathed because it was everything I couldn’t have in that moment. It touched me even when I couldn’t touch him. “Please.”

He nodded, backed away from the door, leaving it open as he returned to the bedside chest in which he’d set up the instrument. He sat down to play, pausing as if he expected to adjust robes he wasn’t wearing. His clothing appearing to be some type of pants, jeans perhaps, and a soft-looking, pale green sweater. He leaned over the instrument, his fingers, long and delicate, moving to the strings uncertain, yet after a few strokes, finding the melody.

“Are you all right?” Mr. Yamamoto asked, suddenly appearing above me, holding a tray, as though I’d fallen asleep.

I blinked, fearing for a moment Xiang would be gone, as the music had stopped. But he was still there, sitting at the instrument, staring out at us, and longingly at the tea set in Mr. Yamamoto’s hands.

“Your tea,” Mr. Yamamoto said, setting down the tray and retrieving the other, though not finding enough hands to get the box.

“I’ll get that later,” I told him.

“Are you all right?” He repeated.

“I’m great,” I said. “Promise. Just enjoying the music.”

Mr. Yamamoto glanced at me and then into the room seeming to think over some things. “Would you like me to have a chair brought up? I would think it would be more comfortable than the floor.”

“Maybe one of those big floor pillows? That I got for the classrooms?”

He nodded. “I’ve also set up an appointment for a test for you. Tomorrow morning.”

I jolted upright at the idea of having to leave Xiang for even a minute, fearing he’d vanish, that this was all a dream. “Do I have to go to the city?”

“No,” Mr. Yamamoto said. “A clinic in town here. It’s only about a twenty-minute drive.”

That meant almost an hour away from Xiang. Fuck…

“Mr. Yang?” Mr. Yamamoto directed toward Xiang. “Do you have need of anything else?”