Rain

4

I waited outside the station, leaning against the wall beside a buzzing vending machine. The summer heat was lingering into September, but I’d pulled on a light sweater just in case. Tomohiro had rescheduled our mystery date, and I couldn’t be sure where we were going. Just trust me, he’d said, to which I’d reminded him about the last “date,” which had been an elaborate plan to push me away before the Yakuza had hunted him down. He’d laughed, which hadn’t left me feeling reassured.

A moment later he sailed around the corner on his bike, heading way too fast toward the racks. At the last minute he leaped off his bike and the wheel crashed against the bar with a loud echo.

I grinned. “Is that display of manliness necessary?”

“Very,” he said, stooping to lock the wheel to the rack. “Life is boring if you only do necessary things.” He stepped toward me, brushing his hands off on his jeans, a dark satchel hanging from his shoulder to his hip. “Sorry I made you wait.”

“It’s okay, I only got here a minute ago.”

“Then let’s go.” He took my hand in his for a minute, letting my fingers slip through his before heading toward the station doors.

“Where are we going exactly?” I said, following him up the steps and toward the train platforms. “You kind of left that detail out.”

“Ah, so remember when we were trying to find a new place that was just ours?”

“Yeah?” When Toro Iseki had been under renovations, Tomohiro could draw in peace, but not so much now.

“It turns out Antarctica is a hell of a commute,” he said. “So I’ve found the next best thing.”

“Wait,” I said. “I thought you said you were going to stop drawing.”

“I am,” he said, reaching for his wallet. “I have.” He pulled out his train pass and scanned it on the platform barrier. The gateway buzzed and the little metal doors flung open.

“So then why do you need a new place?” I said, scanning my own train pass and following him through. He turned to the east platform, and we sat on a bench to wait.

“Because,” he said, speaking quietly in the busy station, “first, I don’t know how long I can go without drawing. Remember how I said I’d have the nightmares and wake up with ink on the floor? Or the ink during the kendo match and maybe even those fireworks? Trying not to draw might be a way to contain the ink, but if it falls through, my only other choice is trying to control the drawings. And for that, I need a safe place to sketch. And second, I need a place to be alone with my girlfriend where others can’t snoop.”

“And Antarctica is just too far,” I smirked.

“I hear the penguins are cute, though.”

“So in non-penguin news, I’ve decided I’m going to learn how to control whatever it is inside me,” I said, watching Tomo’s eyes carefully. I wanted him to know he wasn’t alone, that we’d figure it out together.

He looked surprised, and worried. “Katie, we don’t even know if that’s true. Just because Yuki’s brother said that to you...you’re not a Kami okay?”

“I know that, but there’s something going on, right? Even Jun thought that—” I stopped. When Jun had told me I manipulated the ink, that there was ink inside me, Tomohiro had been writhing on the ground haunted by shadows. He hadn’t heard a word of it.

“Jun?” Tomohiro echoed. He looked at me with concern. “Takahashi is dangerous, Katie. He’s not bothering you again, is he?”

“No,” I said, looking away. I felt like the truth was written all over my face. “I just feel like—don’t you think he might at least know some things we don’t? I mean, there’s got to be a reason the ink reacts to me.”

“There is,” Tomohiro said, tucking my hair back over my shoulder. He leaned in and his lips grazed the top of my ear. “We’re linked, Katie, and we can fight this together. We don’t need anyone else’s help.”

I nodded.

“Katie...can I ask you something?” His breath was hot against my ear and I shivered.

“What?”

“Can you—I mean...” He leaned back and sighed. “I know you’re still learning Japanese. So you won’t take offense, right?”

“Oh jeez,” I said, the heat of the embarrassment coursing through me. “What did I do?”

He paused, looking troubled. “It’s—it’s Takahashi. When you call him by his first name, it’s...not really comfortable for me.”

“Oh,” I said, staring at him. Of course. Calling someone by their first name in Japan was personal. Intimate. “You’re jealous!” I laughed.

“It’s not funny,” he said quietly, and it wiped the grin right off my face. I hadn’t thought about it before, but it was probably humiliating for him that I called another guy by his first name.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s not just for me,” he said. “It’ll sound bad if you call him that in front of anyone. Especially since he’s older than you. It sounds like—it sounds like you’re more than friends. A lot more.”

I’d heard another girl call him Jun, and he’d never seemed to mind, so I’d gone along with it. Takahashi sounded strange and distant to me, but I remembered Ikeda’s response when I’d called out his first name. Maybe it really was a mistake to use it.

“Got it,” I said. “My bad.”

Tomohiro smiled. “It’s okay.”

The train whirred into the station, its brakes squealing as the arrival announcement chimed on the loudspeaker. The stale station air whisked around our faces.

And then I heard a familiar voice calling over the sound of the train.

“Tomo-kun!”

He looked up, hands in his pockets and expression frozen, like he was completely confused.

“Shiori?”

I glanced at him for a minute. Wasn’t he calling another girl by her first name? That was the same thing he’d just been upset about. But wait—she was younger than him. I’d have to ask Yuki. Names were way too complicated.

Shiori ran toward us, waving a hand. She wore her school uniform, a tartan red-and-blue skirt with her pregnant belly ballooning under her white blouse. Her white socks were pulled neatly up to her knees, her black loafers clunking against the ground. She swung her black book bag in her other hand.

“Dame yo,” Tomo warned as she approached. He shook his head disapprovingly. “You shouldn’t be running.”

“Heiki, heiki,” Shiori said, swishing her hand back and forth. “You worry too much, Tomo-kun. Hi, Katie.”

“Hi,” I said, trying to smile. I knew her life was hard right now, but I didn’t like the way she was leaning into Tomo. She knew we were dating, right?

Tomo stepped back, as if he was thinking the same thing. He ducked into the train and we followed.

“Are you on your way home?” I asked.

Shiori shook her head. “I take this train to my doctor’s office.”

“Oh.” I felt my cheeks flush. “How...how’s it going?”

“Good,” she smiled. “The baby’s very healthy.” The train was crowded, but Tomo spotted a narrow spot for two beside a salaryman on the red leather bench. He sat, his back pressed against the window, and looked up at me. I took a step forward, but Shiori brushed past me and sat down next to him, resting her bag on her lap. Guess I’m standing. It was fine, though. Shiori probably needed the spot anyway. I wrapped my fingers around the metal pole, trying to take it in stride.

“Katie, sit down,” Tomo said, starting to lift himself up.

“It’s okay,” I said. “Shiori needs to sit.”

She beamed, a little too proud of herself. We were both trying to be thoughtful, but I worried she was reading into it too much. I took a breath as the train lurched into motion. She didn’t have anyone but Tomo looking out for her. I had to trust him to let her know if things went too far.

Tomo rose out of his seat. “Sit,” he said. His eyes searched mine, apologetic. I felt awkward to sit next to Shiori, but standing would make the situation worse, like I was being difficult. I sat down beside her; neither of us looked happy.

“So, Tomo-kun,” Shiori tried. “I have three more weeks of school and then that’s it.”

He nodded. “Not long now, ne?”

“That’s exciting,” I attempted. Shiori smiled, but it was forced. I could see that.

“Thanks,” she said. “So why are you headed this way, Tomo-kun? You couldn’t be going to Myu’s house...?” Tomo winced at the mention of his ex-girlfriend. Obviously he wasn’t going there. Why was she messing with him?

“We’re going to some mystery place,” I said, trying to lighten the tension. “My guess is possibly the zoo, but he won’t tell me.”

“Oh, I love the zoo!” Shiori said. “Tomo’s taken me many times.”

Tomo looked as uncomfortable as I felt. I knew she was like a sister to him—why was she trying to make it sound like more? But then I looked at her face and the look in her eyes. Oh. She wants it to be more, doesn’t she? He protected her, stood up for her through all the bullying. He was her knight in shining armor, and I was in the way.

“We like watching the lemurs, right, Tomo-kun?”

Tomo folded his arms, leaning the back of his head against the metal pole. The beams of light from the window lit his hair like a flame. “It’s the red pandas I like.”

Shiori’s voice was quiet. “Right,” she said. “The red pandas. I forgot.”

“Lemurs are cute, though,” he added, trying to soften what he’d said. “Anyway, Katie and I aren’t going to the zoo, but we are going on a date.” The words startled me, since he’d been too indirect to say it like that before. Then I realized—he was trying to get the message across. He was trapped, but he didn’t want to embarrass either one of us.

Shiori’s face fell. “Oh.”

This whole thing was stupid. Couldn’t we just come out and say how we felt? Tomo and I were together, but I didn’t want to hurt Shiori.

“You can come with us,” I blurted out. Tomo raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. “It’s more fun that way anyway, right?”

“Oh, I’m too busy,” Shiori said. “I have that appointment, and then I need to stop for a couple things we need for dinner.” The train was slowing, pulling into the next stop, and the motion sent an elderly man’s bag skidding across the floor. Tomo dashed after it, returning it to the bowing, grateful man. Shiori leaned into me while he was gone, her voice low. “It’s a shame you don’t know how to cook Japanese food, Katie. How will you ever keep a Japanese man happy?”

Did she actually just say that? “Sorry?”

Shiori sighed. “It’s pathetic, you know, trying to steal Tomo from me.”

My mouth opened, but I had to force words out. “Steal him?”

“Tomo-kun and I have been inseparable since we were little. You think you’re going to change that?”

My stomach twisted; I’d never heard Shiori sound like this. “I’m not trying to get between you.”

“I don’t need your pity invites to everything you do. Anyway, do you even know the first thing about dating a Japanese guy? Poor Tomo-kun. Japanese guys have totally different expectations than Americans, you know. I could never date a foreigner. I mean, for a bit of meaningless fun, maybe, but not long-term. You know your relationship with Tomo isn’t going to go anywhere serious, right? Wait...did you know?” She looked at the bright red plastered on my cheeks. “Ara, you did! Never mind. Enjoy your date. It’s nice to be exotic, even if it’s short-lived, right?” She rose to her feet as the train doors opened, waving her hand at Tomo with a big smile as she went out the door. I stared at her like a blowfish, my mouth open in a big O as the train pulled away.

Tomo collapsed into the seat beside me, the motion making the seat jump a little. “Daijoubu?” he asked. “You look pale.”

“I’m not okay,” I said. “Not at all. Did you hear what she said?”

He leaned forward. “What?”

But I couldn’t say it. It was hurtful, but it was true, wasn’t it? I was stumbling over every cultural difference, like Jun’s name. What kind of expectations did Tomo have? Was I supposed to cook lunches for him like in animes? Women working in the offices brought tea for their male coworkers at break time, and Diane had told me about a teacher who’d quit working because she’d gotten married. Did Tomo expect me to do that, too? Were we really too different to have a future?

“Nothing,” I said. I was scared Tomo would agree with what she’d said. He’d already acted pretty jealous about the Jun thing.

“Forget her,” Tomo said. “It’s probably baby hormones talking. Today it’s just you and me, ii?” He ruffled my hair with his slender fingers, a grin carving its way onto his lips. I smiled back, confidence slowly flooding back into me. Tomo liked to cook, for one thing. Yuki had told me that was pretty unconventional for a Japanese guy. Maybe he wasn’t typical in any way.

Shiori had reminded me that I was different, that I didn’t fit in. But the way Tomo looked at me right now, I didn’t feel different at all.

“Up a mountainside?”

Tomohiro grinned. We’d been riding the bus for fifteen minutes, scaling closer and closer to the summit on the narrow roads that tunneled through the trees.

“This isn’t exactly the most convenient spot for everyday meetings,” I said.

“Okay, fine, maybe it’s a bit far for every day,” Tomo said, slouching into the bus seat. “But it’s worth it.”

I stared out the window as the bus pulled up to a platform. Forests surrounded us in a blanket of leaves, more lush green than I’d seen in one place since moving to Shizuoka. Above the trees, a thick wire ran up the hill.

“What is this place?”

The bus shuddered to a stop, and we hopped off the front, dropping our yen into the plastic box beside the steering wheel.

“Nihondaira,” Tomo said, and the moment we stepped out of the bus, the fresh, sweet mountain air gusted around us.

The chirps of wagtails and Japanese bush warblers echoed from every corner of the forests. It was as though Toro Iseki had burst through its boundaries and transformed into an overgrown secret garden.

The crows cawed incessantly, the only familiar sound that we were still in Shizuoka.

“Look,” he said and stretched out his arm. It was hard to see, but there was something in the distance across the bay, a looming shape with a cap of white at the top. “The air’s muggy, but you can kind of make it out.”

Mount Fuji towered over the landscape, reaching into the sky like a giant. I’d never seen a mountain that huge in my entire life.

“It’s beautiful,” I breathed. “This whole area is.”

“And remote,” he said. “Well, except the tourists.” Most of the ground around us was paved into a huge parking lot for the tour buses. But on the edges of that platform, the rolling mountains teemed with life and sound. I turned—behind us stood a variety of radio towers in striped red and white. To the right of us was a touristy-looking building about half the height of the towers.

“Gift shop?” I wondered.

“This is where a lot of the Shizuoka tea is made,” Tomo said. “They sell some of it in there.”

“Oh,” I said. “So these are the rolling lands of your dad’s tea empire.” I poked him sharply just above his hip and he jumped a mile.

“Oi!” he snapped. He reached for me and I raced toward the tea shop. The sound of grinding gears and wire scraping against itself stopped me in my tracks. Tomo crashed into me, grabbing me around my waist and lifting me off the ground.

“Hey!” I shouted as he laughed. A few of the Japanese tourists looked over and then quickly away. I was a foreigner, so they made it their business to politely ignore the shenanigans I was causing.

My feet touched the ground again and Tomo broke off his hold on me.

“That’s the ropeway,” he said, following my gaze.

Little cable cars bounced up and down on the wires as they whirred slowly through the air, rolling along the thick cord toward a distant mountain peak.

“Is that where we’re going?”

“Not exactly, but we can take a detour. There’s a shrine up there, so there’ll be more tourists. But on the edges of the shrine are forests, and no fence.”

“Got it,” I grinned. “Let’s ride the ropeway. I want to be surrounded by forest.”

He grinned. “Ikuzo.” Let’s go.

We’d lost something important without Toro Iseki. We needed to be alone among the trees and the birds, somewhere horses could come to life if we wanted them to.

The thought was sobering. No, we couldn’t bring anything like that to life again. No horses, no butterflies, not even any furin chimes in the trees. They’d been dangerous, sinister, but they’d been beautiful, too. It made me sad to think I would never see those things again.

I noticed a weird frame covered in brass squares while we waited to enter the cable car. A large metal frame held a dozen rows of silver pipes, and along these pipes hung hundreds of brass padlocks like on vintage high-school lockers or construction-site fences.

“What’s this about?” I said.

Tomohiro rested his hand on the locks, giving them a shove so they swayed back and forth. Now that I looked closer, kanji names had been written down the sides of the locks in black pen.

“Lovers’ locks,” he said. “Lock your heart here so your relationship lasts forever.”

I felt too warm then, looking at the rows of locks. Were these couples all still together? Every lock had a keyhole at the bottom, but no keys in sight. The locks weren’t going anywhere.

Tomo spoke beside me, his breath warm on my ear. “They threw the keys away,” he said. “Guess they’re stuck together until the end. Maybe I should get a lock for us, too.”

“You sure you want to be stuck with each other that long?” I was joking, but what Shiori had said still stung, leaving an uneasy hole at the edge of my confidence where it seeped away into the shadows.

Tomo took a deep breath as the cable car arrived, a lady opening the door and announcing it was time to board. “It’s not that long until the end for me,” he said, and I shivered.

We crowded into the cable car with the tourists and lifted into the air.

“So we can fly after all,” Tomohiro said, but his voice was sad. He’d thought once he could fly safely on a dragon, but that didn’t end well. Now here we were, suspended by a cord, bouncing over every pole along the ropeway.

“At least this mode of transportation won’t try to eat you,” I said. “Although it is kind of rickety.”

“Well, it’s run fine for the past fifty years,” Tomo said, his eyes gleaming. “I guess it’s due to break down and throw us to our untimely deaths.”

“You better grow feathers fast if that happens.”

He tucked his bangs behind his ears—where they stayed for a few seconds before tumbling back—and closed his eyes. I knew he was pretending we weren’t surrounded by tourists.

At the end of the ropeway, we followed the crowd as they curved around the platform and toward a staircase of what looked like a hundred giant stone steps. They rose sharply from the cable-car platform, and I gasped when I saw the roumon gateway at the top.

It looked like the entrance to an ancient castle, a fortified gate of deep crimson and white. The roof tilted up like a bird raising its wings, the black rounded tiles stubbed with crests of shining gold. A thick rope wound around the gate, little thunderbolts made of white cloth hanging down from it and swaying in the breeze.

“Kunozan Toshogu Shrine,” Tomohiro said. “That’s just the entrance.”

We walked up the steps slowly. “A shrine? So it’s Shinto, then, not Buddhist.”

“Yeah,” said Tomohiro. “Dedicated to the most famous Kami of Shizuoka, Tokugawa Ieyasu.”

“That sounds like a person’s name, not a mythical kami,” I smirked.

Tomohiro stopped climbing the stairs to look at me. “It is,” he said. “He built Shizuoka Castle. And when he died, after months of sickness and nightmares, he was buried here.”

I felt the blood drain from my face.

“When?” I whispered.

“Sixteen-hundred-something,” Tomohiro said, and he kept climbing. I followed him. “Don’t worry. I’m sure the ghost is long gone.”

“And you think he was really...?”

“A Kami?” Tomohiro stopped to catch his breath and then continued up the stone steps. “Well, let’s see. He was kidnapped during an uprising when he was six. The abductors demanded Tokugawa’s father break ties with their enemy clan or they’d kill his son. And his father said, ‘Go ahead.’”

I raised my hand to my mouth, my eyes wide.

“Yeah,” Tomo said. “And after three years of the boy suffering in their hands, his captors suddenly dropped dead. So did his father. So did half the Japanese in the area.”

Shit.

“Tomo,” I said, my throat dry. “How do you know all this?”

“I’m just looking for answers,” he said. “It used to be Taira no Kiyomori in my nightmares. Now it’s Tokugawa. And I want to understand why.”

“I thought we were looking for a new place to be alone.”

“We are,” Tomohiro said. “But you wanted to come here, and I felt the pull, too. I feel like I’m supposed to be here. He led a lot of successful battles in his time. Maybe he knew something I don’t about controlling the ink.”

We’d reached the gateway now and could see the shrine before us. It was a flurry of bright rainbow colors. I’d never seen any shrine or temple like it in Japan. The posts and foundation of the house were painted bright red, but the walls were a deep black and covered in bright images of dogs and birds. Every surface shone with elaborate whorls of intricate gold. The painted dogs curled around the building had blue and white spots, with tails and manes like lions. Once-brass lanterns, now turned green and scaly with time, hung from thick chains in the roof. Just under the ceiling beams wove an elaborate pattern of blue, red, white and green flowers and shapes. Everything gleamed like it was alive.

“Tomo,” I said, stepping forward. My breath caught in my throat.

That was when I heard the gasp, like air being wrenched from his lungs.

The painted dog’s lip curled back with the sound of wood snapping and grinding, a growl echoing from his mouth of sharply drawn teeth.

I turned just as Tomohiro collapsed in the gateway, his head cracking against the stone. Ink pooled around his skull like blood.