Rain

3

I waited almost an hour outside of Shizuoka Station for him. I checked my watch so many times I started to know what time it would be before I even glanced down. Tea Ceremony Club had made me later than usual, but I was pretty sure Jun still had the same cram-school schedule as the first term. I couldn’t have missed him.

Every nerve in my body pulsed as I waited. Maybe my thoughts were running away with me, but the possibilities seemed endless and terrifying. Things had felt almost normal on my first day back to school—how had I not realized that the past would blow up in our faces?

A group of guys joked to each other and walked past me into the station. They wore the same Katakou School uniforms as Jun’s—navy pants, white short-sleeved shirt, navy blazer and a striped blue-and-green tie. Almost identical to Suntaba’s uniform except for the green stripes instead of red. The group of guys must have just gotten out of an after-school activity, so it was possible Jun could be arriving soon, too. They probably had a ton of different clubs at school. I might have missed him.

Another ten minutes, and I was about ready to give up. I didn’t want to face going home with all these questions in my head. How could I sleep knowing one word from Jun would get Tomohiro in trouble? Tomo could act all sly with the Yakuza, but what would he do once the police were involved? They didn’t care if he made ink move—they cared if he shot one boy and hit another.

As I shifted my weight to leave, Jun rounded the corner toward the station. He had his leather book bag slung over his shoulder with his left hand, while his right hand swung awkwardly away from his side because of the bulky cast. The blond streaks in his hair clung to his face because he didn’t have a free hand to tuck them back. A girl walked beside him, the two of them lost in conversation. Maybe she went to the same cram school, I thought. She had a green-and-navy pleated skirt, kind of like mine, and the handkerchief around her neck was green—also from Katakou School, then.

She turned as she laughed about something Jun said, and I hesitated.

I knew her. Ikeda, the girl on the motorbike.

Great. Two Kami to deal with. But I didn’t have a choice. I needed to talk to him, whether she was there or not.

“Jun,” I blurted out, approaching them. Jun stopped mid-sentence, startled. Ikeda’s fingers wrapped quietly around Jun’s arm. Oh, I thought. She’s either scared I’ll hurt him again, or she didn’t like me using his first name. Or both.

“Katie,” Jun said, lowering his book bag to his side. “Is everything all right?”

“Um.” I stared at the two of them. A few weeks ago I would’ve been running from them, and now I was seeking them out? Jun tossed his head to try to get the black-and-blond hair out of his eyes. I sighed. I didn’t have a choice, and anyway, he looked pretty harmless at the moment. Except for his eyes, which always looked too cold. “Can I—can I talk to you?”

Jun’s mouth opened but he didn’t say anything. Ikeda didn’t look pleased.

“Oh,” he said finally. “Of course. Mochiron. Here, or do you want to go somewhere?” He smiled pleasantly but my nerves buzzed louder. At least he looked more like the guy who’d gently plucked petals out of my hair than the guy who’d carved kanji into his own skin. I could see the corner of the scab where his blazer sleeve lifted up.

“Jun,” Ikeda said, and her sharp voice startled me. “We’ll be late.”

“It’s okay,” he said.

“But—”

“Ikeda, this is important. Go without me.”

Ikeda glared at me, and I felt itchy all over.

I blurted, “If you need to go...” What was I even saying? I needed to talk to him now.

“I don’t,” Jun said, his eyes gleaming. “Let’s get coffee.” He lifted his left arm slowly until the handles of his book bag slid up to his elbow. Then he stepped toward me and offered his open hand with a smile.

My face flushed. I still remembered the day he’d walked to school with me, the day my uniform had been totaled by the storm and I’d had to spend the night at Tomo’s. Jun had given me his keitai number in case the Yakuza bothered me, and then he’d wrapped his warm fingers around mine. I think you have someone you like, he’d said. But if things change, would you consider me? I’d really like to get to know you better.

Did he still feel that way? Even after Tomo and I had bashed his wrist in with a shinai?

I didn’t take his hand. How could he expect me to, after everything that had happened? And anyway, it didn’t matter if he did feel that way. Tomo and I were together. Things hadn’t changed. Instead, I squeezed the handles of my own bag with both hands and turned toward the coffee shop in the station. Jun followed close beside me.

I could feel Ikeda’s eyes bore into me as we left.

“Is everything okay?” Jun asked as we walked.

“Not really.”

“Is it Yuu? Did something happen to him?”

“It’s not Tomohiro. I mean it’s kind of him. But no.”

We went into the kissaten and Jun ordered an iced coffee. I opted for melon soda and we sat in a corner where the leather booth nearly engulfed us.

“De?” Jun urged quietly, resting his good hand on the table. His eyes looked so earnest, even if they were cold. It was like his kendo matches—you could see him thinking out his every move. I guess if you were a Kami you’d have to have control over the situation all the time.

I decided to plunge right in. “Why didn’t you tell me the police were questioning you?”

He said nothing for a minute, then reclined and took a sip of his coffee. “I haven’t exactly seen you around lately. The festival seemed a poor place to bring it up. You were already scared of me.”

I pressed my hands against the cool tabletop. “With good reason. You were being creepy. And your wrist—we were defending ourselves. What exactly did you tell the police? I thought you wanted Tomo to have a choice. Why are you pressuring him to join your Kami?”

“Whoa, matte yo,” he said, lifting his left hand to tuck a blond highlight behind his ear. “I didn’t press any charges. The police were at the hospital that night because of Ishikawa, and when I went in they recognized me. They wanted to know what had happened. But I swear I told them it was an accident, that I fell on my wrist and broke it.”

“Well they don’t believe you,” I said. “They said the bone fracture showed it was an assault.” I shuddered at the term. Is that what we’d done to him? But we’d had to fight back that night. Jun hadn’t left us a choice. The bubbles in my melon soda swarmed my straw and it started to tilt over the side of my glass. I pressed it back down with a shaky hand. “And now because you and Ishikawa both went to Kenritsu Hospital the same night and wouldn’t talk, they think the two incidents are related.”

Jun leaned in, toying absentmindedly with his silver earring. “They are related.”

“I know, but it has nothing to do with this whole gambling-on-kendo-results theory they have.”

“Gambling?” Jun frowned. “Two of the prefecture’s most promising kendouka injured and out of commission on the same night, a few weeks before the tournament.” My straw made a second bubbly escape, but before I could reach for it, Jun grabbed for it and pressed it down. “Yeah, I guess that looks suspicious.”

“I know. I hadn’t even thought of that before, but it does. But that’s not even close to what happened. It had nothing to do with the tournament.” I rested my head on my arm. “And they...they think Tomo’s involved. They found his tenugui at Sunpu Castle, and they overheard you two butting horns at the festival. You can’t let us get pulled into this, Jun. It’ll be bad for all of us. Please.”

Jun frowned. “I can keep denying everything, but it’s not like they’re going to believe me when Ishikawa is being silent, too. It just makes it look gang related if we won’t talk. I mean, what if they get video of us or something? We were all in the same places that night. Che! What a mess. If only I’d made it there before the Yakuza shot Ishikawa.”

“They didn’t,” I said. “Wait, you didn’t know that?”

“What do you mean they didn’t?”

Crap. Crap, crap, crap! Of course Jun didn’t know. He hadn’t arrived until after the gun went off. Now I’d run off to the enemy and given him all our secrets. Now he had all kinds of info to blackmail us into joining his Kami cult. Stupid!

“Katie?” Jun asked gently. “Who shot Ishikawa?”

“Never mind.”

“You can trust me,” he said. “I’m not going to tell the police anything, and I’m not going to force Yuu to join me, either. Right now I just want to help you, but I can’t unless you let me.” My straw made another jump for the table and we caught it at the same time, our fingertips touching as they wrapped around the slippery plastic. His fingers were soft and warm, slender the way Tomohiro’s were. I pulled my hand back but Jun didn’t, holding the straw in place as he smiled at me. “Ano saa,” he said, “you really need to drink some of this before your straw leaps to its bubbly death.”

In spite of everything, I felt a grin curl its way onto my lips. It seemed so ridiculous, the two conversations side by side. I took a huge sip of melon soda and the straw sank down.

I looked at Jun carefully. He seemed so normal sitting here. He sat forward, shrugging his blazer off in the booth. He looked a little flushed, his cheeks pink.

“It’s hot in here,” he laughed, but I wondered. Was it because of me? Did he— No, it didn’t matter. Why did I keep thinking about it? He had way too many screws loose up there.

“Um,” he said, “I have a problem.”

“What?”

He grinned and rose to his feet, taking slow steps toward my side of the booth. His blazer was half off, half on, crumpled around his elbows like he was chained.

“The cast,” he said, and I could see where the jacket had snagged on the thick white bandage. “Could you...?”

“Oh.” I paled. “Um, sure.” I lifted my hands to his sleeve, the weave of the fabric soft under my fingertips. I carefully unhooked the edge of the cuff from the cast, my fingers brushing over the hard bandaged shell as I worked the sleeve down.

My heart pulsed faster. Shut up, shut up, I told it. I wished I could shut off my shallow brain. Sure, Jun looked like a poster boy for the next TV drama series, but couldn’t I look past that to the fact that he had some serious issues?

The sleeve slipped off his arm and I watched the jacket collapse into folds of fabric as it fell. Jun caught the blazer with his good hand, throwing it onto the bench beside him and sitting again.

“Thanks,” he said, reaching for his iced coffee with his now-bare arm. I could see the welts of the snake kanji he’d carved into his skin, faint and scabbing.

“It’s the least I could do,” I said. “I guess the cast is kind of my fault.”

His smile disappeared. “No, it’s not. It’s my fault—I came on too strong about the Kami. I should’ve given you more time to think about it. It’s just—I’ve been alone with my secret for so long. None of the other Kami can do anything close to what Yuu can do. And when I realized there was ink in you, too—I was just so happy not to be alone. I got carried away. I’m sorry, Katie. I’m sorry for frightening you.”

I didn’t know what to say. He’d put his life in danger to rescue all of us. And the words he spoke now, they were genuine. He meant them.

“It was a sketch,” I whispered. God, I hoped I was making the right choice.

“A sketch?”

“The gun,” I said, my voice dry.

“A sketched gun?”

I nodded.

“Shit. Is that what they asked Yuu to do?”

“And money. Sketching money.”

“Bastards.” Jun’s eyes shone like hard marbles. It frightened me, the way he looked. Maybe I shouldn’t have told him after all. “They never learn.”

“What do you mean?”

“Just old business. What matters is that the police don’t suspect Yuu. I won’t say a word, and if Ishikawa’s any kind of friend he won’t, either. It’ll blow over soon enough.”

My thoughts raced. This is why I’d met with him—to save us, and he was willing to do it. “Why are you protecting Tomo?” I said. “So the police don’t learn about the Kami?”

“I’m sure the police know about the Kami, conspiracy-style,” Jun smirked. “Some of them probably are Kami. But no, that’s not why. First, I’m worried the stress of being arrested for assault would make Yuu more dangerous. Second, I’m not joking when I say I’m on your side. If Yuu can learn to control his power—if you can learn to control the ink—we’d be able to do anything.”

“Like kill the Yakuza?” I said, rolling my eyes. I felt like I should be frightened, but sitting here in our school uniforms sipping soda and iced coffee somehow muted the terror.

“That’s not fair,” said Jun. “I don’t really want to kill anyone, if I can help it. I just want to save the world from crime, poverty, famine—everything. Wouldn’t you? There’s so much these powers can be used for, but until Yuu knows how, he’s just a mine in a field waiting to blow up the innocent. He’s stronger than me, Katie. Two weeks ago he proved that. I can’t do it alone—I need you two.”

So the goal of the creepy goth cult was to save the world, feed the hungry, clothe the poor? That didn’t sound so bad.

“That’s it? You don’t want to take over the world or something?”

Jun grinned. “Do I look like some crazy dictator?”

“Looks can be deceiving.”

“Hey! That hurts.” He spun his straw around his now-empty glass in slow circles. “I don’t expect you to trust me. I know this Kami stuff is scary. But I hope you will. I want to help you.”

“So we can help you.”

“That’s one of the reasons.”

“The others?”

“Katie,” he said, his voice velvet and smooth. He reached his left hand up to his earring, rubbing it gently as he looked at me. “There’s only one other reason.”

I turned all shades of red and stared down at my soda, my heart pounding.

Focus. You didn’t come here to stare at his pretty eyes.

“I want to learn how to stop the ink,” I said. “You said there’s ink trapped in me, right? Why me? And what do I do?”

“Meet me again,” Jun said. “It’s too complicated a discussion for a café. To be honest, there’s a lot I don’t know, but I can give you somewhere to start. Plus, I do have to eventually get to cram school because we’re having our mock exams today.”

“Oh my god. I’m sorry!”

He grinned. “You wouldn’t have talked to me if I’d told you.” He stood and reached for his book bag, sliding it up his arm so he could grab his blazer. It was surreal to watch him struggle with the fracture Tomo and I had given him. How could I feel pleased and horrified at the same time?

“Text me when you can chat, or you can always meet me at Katakou and we’ll walk to the train together.” He started to leave and then turned to look at me. “I’m glad you came to meet me,” he said. “We can help each other. And I know you can help Yuu see that.”

As he walked away, I was a queasy mix of relief and utter guilt.

“Tadaima,” I muttered, shutting the door behind me.

“Katie!” Diane said. “You won’t believe it—look!” She swung Yuki’s yukata in front of me, swaying on its special hanger. Too blurry, and my eyes glazed over until the summer kimono slowed down, and then I saw what she meant.

“Nice job,” I said. “Not a spot of ink on it. What’d you use?”

“That’s the weird thing,” Diane said. “I went to get it from your room, and it was already clean. It’s like it all just aired out or something. Maybe it wasn’t ink.”

“Um, yeah, that’s totally weird.” I hoped I was convincing.

“Well, if it was a prank like they’re saying, I’m glad it wasn’t permanent. They would’ve ruined a lot of expensive kimonos and yukatas with real ink. If they ever find who did it, he’ll be in trouble.”

“Definitely,” I said. I grabbed the kimono from her and went into my room to hang it in my closet until I could take it back to Yuki. A gleam caught my eye from the tatami floor.

A disintegrating pile of shimmering dust where the yukata had been left to dry. Kami ink powder, no doubt, like the firefly dust I’d seen glinting around Tomohiro’s sketches. More evidence he was subconsciously behind the fireworks. Thank god he’d decided to stop drawing. Maybe things would finally take a turn for the better.

I lay down on my bed and stared at the ceiling for a while. When did all this ink stuff become my problem? Couldn’t I have found a normal boy who didn’t have these issues? But even more than that, Jun had reminded me of my own link to the Kami. It was the ink inside me that really bothered me. Why was it happening to me? How the heck did it get there?

I had to meet Jun again soon. I wanted to know exactly what role I played in this. In the meantime, there had to be a way to help myself.

I went to my desk and lifted the lid of my laptop. Searching for Kami just brought up the expected—Shinto gods, pictures of Amaterasu, a few mangas and animes. Apparently the internet didn’t think Kami could possibly be real. Ancient myths, old stories. The Kami had done such a good job of hiding their tracks.

My keitai chimed suddenly from my book bag. I reached over and rifled through the bag’s contents for it, flipping it open to a text from Tomohiro.

You okay? Didn’t see you after school.

He’d probably freak out if I told him I’d met up with Jun. Probably better to mention it later and not over texts.

Fine, just worried about the Ishikawa thing, I typed back. Wasn’t that kind of obvious?

Another chime, seconds later.

Thought so. Everything will be okay. You want me to swing by?

I wasn’t sure what Diane thought of Tomohiro, but considering the look she’d given him when he’d shown up at the door last time, she’d probably want a little warning before he dropped in. There were enough reasons why being together was a bad idea—I didn’t need Diane breathing down my neck, too.

Maybe next time, I wrote back. Just about to have dinner.

I like food. Invite me.

I rolled my eyes, sure he was joking.

Do you also like being grilled by family members?

I closed the phone and put it on the table beside me.

How did I affect the ink? There were other Kami around, but Tomo hadn’t lost control because of them. He’d never lost control like he had since I’d arrived in Japan. Well, maybe when the dog drawing had attacked his friend Koji, and also when the sword painting had sliced his wrist open—but both of those he’d sketched on the page. The demon face he’d created when Ishikawa had threatened him with the Yakuza, and the black wings that had unfurled on his back—he hadn’t drawn those. I’d made those happen, some kind of reaction between my ink and his.

Maybe it was emotional. Maybe he was just serious about me. I flushed a little at that one.

So if it wasn’t that—then what?

“Am I a Kami?” I whispered. I twirled my hair between my fingers—no, that had been pretty much ruled out. There’s no way my absentee dad could be Japanese, not with blond hair like this.

What other options were there?

My phone chimed again.

Meet you at Shizuoka Eki tomorrow, it said. And don’t skip kendo—you need all the practice you can get.

Baka, I wrote back. Stupid.

“Katie!” Diane called, and I tossed the phone onto my bed.

I had no clue how I could have ink in me. There was no choice—I had to depend on Jun.

I headed for the table and pulled out a chair as Diane scooped the nikujaga into my bowl.

“So?” she said. “Things back to normal again?”

“Yeah,” I said, spearing a potato with my fork. I had to think of school-related things to talk about so I’d stay away from the Kami problems. “Suzuki-sensei threatened me with international school. I’m not using enough kanji in my schoolwork.”

“You’ll be fine,” Diane said. “I wouldn’t have enrolled you at Suntaba if I didn’t think you could handle it.”

“I know.”

“Have you talked to that boy yet?”

I cringed. “What boy?”

“If you don’t know who I mean, why did you wince just now?”

My fork clanked against the side of the bowl. “There are just so many boys after me. It’s hard to keep track.”

“Katie,” she warned, but her face looked a shade paler under her plum lipstick. “You know who I mean. The punk I thought was Tanaka before when he showed up here with those ripped jeans and that smirk. What was his name? Yoshida? Yu-something... Oh, what was it?”

“Yuu Tomohiro.”

“Right, Yuu. He in your class?”

“Not exactly,” I said. She looked worried enough—no need to stress that he was a senior. “He’s in kendo, remember?”

“Oh yeah. I thought he looked violent.”

I moaned. “Diane.”

“Kidding, kidding. Well, bring him around sometime so I can get to know him.”

“You mean scrutinize him and pick him apart.”

“Exactly.”

I rolled my eyes.

“There’s something a little off about him,” she added.

“You mean his fully tattooed torso that links him to every gang-related crime in Shizuoka Prefecture?”

“Funny,” Diane said, pointing her fork at me, “but no. I meant his eyes. Is he nearsighted?”

“Um. That’s weird. Do I look like an optometrist?”

Diane sipped her cold oolong tea. “Well, never mind, Miss Snarky. I just thought his pupils went pretty large for a minute there.”

I nearly dropped my fork.

“Just wondered if everything was okay with his eyes, that’s all,” she mumbled. “Your bowl’s empty. Want more?”

“Please,” I managed, my voice barely a whisper.

I swear my hand was shaking when I passed her the bowl.