But Brooke said, “We’ve got it in mind to inform the chieftains about Man’ya.”
“Oh, is that all? Wait, you never told them?”
“We figured on waitin’ until all the eggs had hatched, but...”
Incidentally, it was now nine days since Man’ya had been born. The other eggs hadn’t hatched yet, although we expected they would soon.
“Man’ya was born just a bit too early, it seems.” Brooke looked at the child sitting next to him. Man’ya, who was stuffing herself with so much food she looked like she might burst, noticed him watching her and looked up at him, cocking her head. As gestures go, it was—well, it was adorable! “I’m aware of how a heated egg might hatch sooner than the rest of a clutch,” said my gardener, “but it’s just been too long. We wanted to tell the chieftains about the birth, and confer with the elders about the other eggs.”
Ah—that made sense. Man’ya looked happy and healthy, but they were worried that her premature birth might cause problems down the road. They probably wanted to ask if anyone else had experienced anything like this, and see if they could get any advice.
“Besides, we’re worried that once the others are born, we might not be able to take enough time to go back. Best do it when we’ve only one.”
“It’s fine by me,” I said. “Oh, but Myusel, you’ll have to take over all of the housework for the day. You all right with that?”
“Er, yes,” she responded, a little surprised when I suddenly turned to her. “I’ll be fine.”
I guess she had handled everything all the time before Cerise got here. And there was no school tomorrow, so I could help out, too. We would manage.
“Pardon us for the trouble. And thank you very much,” Cerise said, and she and Brooke both bowed their heads. Even Man’ya nodded in a monkey-see-monkey-do imitation of her parents, getting a smile out of all of us.
“We’ll just leave Man’ya to play by herself like she always does, so you won’t need to worry about her,” Cerise said.
“You’re not taking her with you?”
“The carriage will only take us partway,” Brooke replied. “The last leg’s a challenging stretch through the mountains. I worry it might be difficult with Man’ya. Anyhow, we only intend on the briefest stay. Best to travel light.”
“Okay.”
I couldn’t imagine a ten-day-old human infant being apart from its parents for an entire day, but Man’ya could already walk on her own and even eat solid food. Maybe it would be safer if she didn’t go on any hikes. You know what they say—curiosity killed the... uh, lizardman.
“Sounds good. Just leave Man’ya to us.”
“We’ll make sure everyone other than Shinichi-san keeps a close eye on her,” Hikaru-san said.
“And just what makes you say that, Hikaru-san?” I demanded. “Is it because you’re a bully? Are you bullying me?”
“You, Shinichi-san, need to focus your efforts on not being raemu.”
“Hrm...” I grumbled. Not much I could say to that.
“Be a good girl and do what they tell you,” Cerise said to Man’ya.
“Gyu!” Man’ya answered, and waved her arm.
Brooke and Cerise left the mansion early the next morning. For the rest of us, life went on pretty much as normal. Myusel had housework to take care of; Elvia was in her room drawing. There was no school, so Minori-san and Hikaru-san were both in their own rooms. And as for me...
“All right...!”
Breakfast was over, and I was on my way to the yard with some fruit Myusel had prepared for me. It wasn’t a snack for myself; I was going to give it to Man’ya. My plan was that by plying her with fruit, I would teach her that I wasn’t food, but a giver of food. A feeder, not to put too fine a point on it. I felt a little pathetic having to resort to what amounted to bribery, but considering the epic failure of the “look cool” approach, I was starting to get a little desperate.
“Today’s the day!”
The current situation wasn’t just bad for my fingers; it was taking a mental toll on me to constantly worry that Brooke might do himself in to save his family’s honor.
Taking pains to hide in the shadows of trees or among the grass, I looked for Man’ya. I knew she was playing in the yard somewhere. I was afraid if I just suddenly called out to her, she’d bite me, so I would have to pick the right moment to give her this fruit. I was starting to feel like the gamekeeper for some wild animal.
“Man, it’s kind of hot today.”
It seemed brighter than usual. I was starting to sweat as I wandered around the yard. I wiped it away on my sleeves, looking around for the little lizardman (lizardgirl?). And then I spotted her, crawling around on the ground with her back to me.
I stopped. It looked like she was digging in the dirt.
Perfect.
“Man’ya...” I called. With a strangely lethargic movement, she raised her head, then turned toward me.
Keep the initiative...!
Ready to pull my hand back in a hurry if she looked like biting me, I held the fruit out to her. I pinched it between my fingers so that even if she dove for me, she would get the fruit first. (Though there was always the possibility she would ignore the fruit and just bite my hand from the side. Then it would all have been for nothing.)
“Here, this is for you.” I could feel my heart rate increasing, but I kept hoping for the best as I waited for a reaction.
Man’ya stared fixedly at the fruit in my fingers. And then, suddenly... she swooned.
“Whoa!” Wary of being bitten, I reached out too late. Man’ya simply toppled to the ground. She didn’t fall—it was almost like she had gone unconscious.
“Man’ya?!”
I looked at the child splayed on the ground, then pitched my fruit aside and reached out to her with both hands. That was normally the instant I would have been bitten, but
