Chapter Text
On an otherwise quiet and dreary early morning, Omi barreled into the temple kitchen and slammed his hands on the table. “I need to know the absolute best locations for going on dates!”
For a moment, all three of his friends stared back at him blankly. Then Kimiko smirked into her breakfast, and Clay let out an “I’m-not-ready-for-this” sigh. The only person who still looked confused was Raimundo, who asked, “Is this a hypothetical thing or…?”
Omi had only a vague recollection of what “hypothetical” meant but wasn’t about to admit it. “It is most urgent! Jermaine has taken me to all the most marvelous places of New York City! He has shown me all these important museums and parks and buildings scraping skies and—and—” Rather pink in the face, he concluded, “And as grand as the temple is, it simply cannot compete with such wonders!”
Raimundo’s eyebrows were still furrowed, and Clay continued to stuff an egg sandwich into his mouth while pretending the conversation wasn’t happening, but Kimiko stifled a giggle. Giving a sympathetic smile, she said, “I don’t think Jermaine will care where you hang out as long as he’s with you, right?”
Waving a dismissive hand, Omi shook his head furiously. “That is not the point! I cannot just take Jermaine anywhere— It has to be just as impressive as New York City! Temples, forests, mountains—those are common, so they will not do. Maybe an even bigger city—”
Kimiko held up a palm. “Hold on, let me stop you there.” Turning her chair a bit so she could face the baffled little monk, she said, “Think about this from Jermaine’s perspective, huh? He grew up in a big city, so it’s old hat to him.” At the boy’s blank expression, she added, “That means he’s used to it.”
“Right!” Omi’s head bobbed in a swift nod.
Behind them, Raimundo whispered to Clay, “What are they talking about? What about Jermaine?” Clay shook his head and kept eating.
Kimiko continued, “All those forests and mountains—those are boring to you because we’ve been all over the world and you’ve seen them before. But they wouldn’t be boring to Jermaine because he hasn’t seen them before. Make sense?”
Omi pursed his lips. “So… you are saying that even if something does not impress me, it might still impress Jermaine?”
“Exactly.”
Grabbing the top of his beanie and tugging it over his ears, Omi grimaced. “But how will I know what impresses him if I cannot use my own judgment to—to— This is too confusing, Kimiko! I just want to take him somewhere amazing so that he thinks that I am amazing— because he is amazing and—”
“Okay, calm down, Romeo.” Kimiko reached out and patted the top of Omi’s head. The young monk had taken to wearing the blue beanie Jermaine had given him when they first met six years ago. (Even though Omi had grown in height a few inches since then, his head had not changed size at all.) At first, Kimiko had thought the wardrobe change had been out of sentiment, but she had lately grown to suspect that some unpleasant side effects of puberty had started to sprout on Omi’s forehead, and he was desperate to hide them. She wasn’t used to the boy showing signs of insecurity; it was unsettling, to say the least. “You know Jermaine better than we do, right? Use that big head of yours. Just think about the stuff he likes, what he thinks is cool, and I’m sure you’ll come up with something.”
Omi twiddled his thumbs. “R-right. Okay. I will… storm through my brain…” He bumped into a chair as he started a distracted walk back out the kitchen doorway.
Kimiko scraped her chair back to its proper place at the table, and Raimundo muttered, “Why does Omi want to impress Jermaine?”
Raising her eyes to stare across the table, her voice was deadpan. “Really, Rai?”
Raimundo’s shoulders stiffened. “What? You don’t have to impress your friends to make them like you; Omi should know that.”
“Wow, Rai.”
“What?” Raimundo glanced at Clay, looking for someone to defend him, but Clay was still stubbornly ignoring the conversation. “What am I missing here?”
“You mean besides the fact that ever since Omi started visiting Jermaine, he’s constantly talking about him? His ‘fascinating’ hair, his grades at school, his sense of humor, blah blah blah, the list goes on? You don’t catch any of that?”
Raimundo’s face paled a bit. “But Omi’s, like, eight years old!”
“He’s fourteen.”
Raimundo’s jaw dropped. “No, he’s not.”
She rolled her eyes. “We just celebrated his birthday, Rai. You even made fun of the acne on his head and said ‘puberty hit him like a freight train.’ You’re a jerk, by the way.”
“I didn’t mean this part of puberty!” Raimundo cried, looking absolutely horrified at the realization that Omi could age. “The little dude—he’s—married to his job, or something! He doesn’t get… feelings and urges and eww.”
Clay glanced up and finally spoke. “Denial. First stage o’ grief.”
Standing and tossing her plate to the sink, Kimiko strolled to the door. “Well, you two better get over that denial because I am not gonna be the one to give Omi the birds and bees spiel.” At that realization, Clay’s and Rai’s faces turned even paler.