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why she had followed Robin like a moth to a flame. It was why Setsuko was and always would be the most beautiful woman in the world.
“But he can’t.” Hiroshi’s face twisted in anger, his eyes still unfocused. “I didn’t catch up to him yet.”
it occurred to Misaki what a big piece of their world Mamoru had been. Not just a firstborn son, but a decade older than his younger brothers, he must have loomed so large to them.
It was good to know that one of the men in her life cared that Mamoru was gone.
Takeru nodded as if he had suspected this the whole time, as if he hadn’t slapped his son around the dojo for suggesting it.
“The Yammankalu are conducting an important forensic investigation for our Emperor,” Song said. “You and everyone in this village are to give them your full cooperation.”
“They can’t do this! They can’t—”
“You are not well,” he said. “Rest.” Then he left, as he had the day of Misaki’s first miscarriage, as he always did. She watched him go, wishing he had hit her.
“How dare you?” she snarled at the soldier. “Do you know who he is? He fought to protect this empire! How dare you?”
“Then you will see to it that these people understand one thing: no one is to speak of the Ranganese attack. If any outsider asks, the dead here were victims of another coastal storm.”
“Well, it’s not your job,” Misaki pointed out. Honestly, it was Takeru’s, but he was still nowhere to be found.
“They’re children of the mangrove seeds planted by the Falleke—Kiye, God of Soul and Fire and Nyaare, Goddess of Flesh and Substance,”
“Yes, but that makes sense,” Chul-hee protested. “That’s well-kept orature that only goes back a few thousand years. They don’t think they’re the descendants of prehistoric god-fish.”
“One of our sons was with you. Just one. And where is he now?”