Rain (22 page)

“Lies,” Jun barked, but Tomo shook his head and pointed toward the snake. Jun looked back, his eyes wide.

“Susanou’s messengers,” Tomo said. “It makes so much sense. You’re the one who’s dangerous, Takahashi.”

“Impossible,” Jun said. He splashed his hand through the ink, grabbing where the snake’s neck would be. He throttled the column of black until it splashed back into the water. “I have control over my powers. You don’t.”

Tomo shook his head. “I don’t think you do. I saw your eyes, heard your voice. You’re as unstable as me. You’ve trained a bit.... So what? You still have the nightmares. You still black out, don’t you? You’ve killed, Takahashi. You’ve gone to darker places than I have.”

“I was younger then,” Jun snapped. “You had your share of accidents, too.”

“The earthquake,” Tomo said, “and the fireworks that rained down. Even this ink rain—they didn’t happen until you were here.”

“So what?” Jun said. The water curved around his cheeks and dripped down his chin. “You and your dragon caused that storm in Toro Iseki. And Katie said she’s felt tremors before, just her.”

“It’s not about starting storms or tremors,” Tomo said. “You called up those snakes, like the ones Susanou fought in the myths. You want to take over Japan like he did. You’re the one who takes lineage from him, not me.”

Ikeda wrapped an arm around Jun but he shrugged it off, stumbling to his feet. “You don’t have any proof.”

“Neither do you,” Tomo said.

“My control is my proof,” Jun said, stretching his palms out to his sides. “My power is my proof. I’m an imperial descendant of Amaterasu. I will be a king, Yuu. And you are heir to nothing but the darkness and filth of Yomi.” He spat as he spoke, and I saw the distaste in his eyes, not for Yuu, but the lack of lineage. The shallow desire for a princely line.

“You’re wrong,” said a voice like mine, but I hadn’t said anything. It had come from the edge of the forest, where the slope cut away near the ropeway to Kunozan. I turned to look.

She was gleaming in the darkness like a papery ghost. The edges of her face and hair were Tomo’s jagged pen lines, the hair left white and colorless where mine was blond. It was drawn up in a tight bun with curls that draped over the top of her head. A hairpiece of white cherry blossoms dangled down in plastic chains in front of her forehead, like the hair ornament I’d worn to Abekawa Hanabi. Her eyes were doelike and gentle, but she held her head with confidence and poise, which made her innocent nature look like an act. She had that air to her like someone who knew way more than she let on.

She wore an old-fashioned kimono, not at all the kind worn to summer festivals. It looked more like the ones from
seijin-shiki
,
the ceremony when you become an adult and don those elegant
furisode
kimonos with the superlong sleeves that reach to the ground. And believe me, those were some elaborate outfits. Flowers of every size and shape had been sketched into her kimono, all colorless and empty. The color of the kimono shaded from white to gray to black on the hem and sleeves. Large phoenixes and chrysanthemums tumbled across the skirt of the fabric, and a thick gray obi was tied stiffly around her waist.

The paper version of me, the drawing Tomo had made.

She was beautiful, more beautiful than I was, and elegant. I blushed as I realized she was how Tomohiro saw me, how he had sketched me. But was that true? He’d sketched in his sleep. I hoped I looked like that in his subconscious, full of strength and sure of myself.

“Katie?” Tomo said with caution, looking at the paper girl.

She stared at him with her large eyes, her pupils pools of black ink.

“Yes,” she said. “And no.”

“
Masaka
,”
Tomo whispered, and he stepped back. “The drawing...you’re from my dream.”

“It was the only way to reach you,” she said. “It was the only way to push you toward your destiny.”

Jun’s voice rang out from beside the pools. “You
drew
Katie?” he shouted. “Are you an idiot? Don’t you know that could hurt her?”

I felt nauseous as I looked at her. Tomo’s drawings often gave me motion sickness, but not like this. I took in deep breaths of the cold air, trying to steady myself against the tree trunk.

“He didn’t have a choice,” said the paper girl. “I forced his hand while he slept.”

“Why?” Tomo said. The ink dripped through his copper hair and down his face like black tears.

“Because you are at war,” she said. “You don’t know who you are.”

“He’s the heir of Yomi,” Jun said. “Susanou’s descendant.”

The paper Katie looked at Jun, her eyes shining like black stones. “No. You are.”

Jun laughed darkly and stumbled forward, Ikeda holding him upright. “Of course you’d say that. You’re from Yuu’s subconscious.”

“Nevertheless,” she said, “there is no escape for you.” There was a beam of bright white light, and I had to shield my eyes. When the light faded, she held the giant shield from the drawing. She twisted it, with effort, the whole shield groaning as it turned in the muddy grass. It wasn’t a shield at all. It was a mirror, a huge mirror lit by the same papery-white glow as the rest of the girl.

I was filled with a horrible sense of dread. I didn’t want to be here. I didn’t want to see this.

“Don’t fear the mirror,” the paper Katie said to me. “Your ink is weak, and not yours, but it
is
from Amaterasu.”

But Jun was transfixed. He limped forward, stumbling. He must have hurt his leg when he hit the water. He gently pushed Ikeda away, leaving her behind as he dragged himself toward the mirror.

I could see him reflected in it as he approached. He looked the same, but his clothes in the mirror had changed. He wore a dark
montsuki
,
a men’s kimono, the jacket long and black and flared over the white-and-gray-striped
hakama
skirt. A white knot was tied just above the
hakama
and trailed up in two white cords that vanished under the coat.

I waited, half expecting the image to grow horns or growl at him or something, but it didn’t. Nothing happened, as far as I could see.

But Jun saw something else. He gasped and fell to his knees.

“What is it?” I said. “What happened?”

The paper girl looked at me and blinked her eyes, the sound of it like crinkling paper. “He sees himself,” she said. “He’s always known the truth. He just refused to face it.”

“No,” Jun whispered, looking at his hands. His voice rose as he spoke, each word wavering. “It can’t be. It’s not true! They did this to me. They took Oyaji from me!”

“And Tomo?” I said. I couldn’t wait any longer. “He’s not descended from Susanou?”

The paper girl shook her head. “Yet there is only death for him, because of his struggle.”

“Struggle?”

“Tomohiro is from two Kami lines,” the paper girl said. “His father was descended from Amaterasu. His mother is the heir of Tsukiyomi.”

Tomo’s face turned pale.

“Tsukiyomi?” I said. “Who the hell is that?”

Ikeda spoke up. “One of the three,” she said. “The three principle
kami.
Tsukiyomi was the
kami
of the moon, Amaterasu’s lover. She betrayed him.”

There were
three?
Oh god. I’d seriously messed up.

Tomo looked down, his eyes wide. “Tousan is a Kami?”

“One that never awoke,” the paper girl said. “But the ink manifested in you, and now you war with yourself.”

Amaterasu from his father. Tsukiyomi from his mother. A war within his own blood.

“Then he has a choice,” I said, my heart leaping in my chest. “He can choose his fate.” He could choose to align himself with Amaterasu. We could be together after all.

“There is no escape,” the paper Katie said.

“There is only death,” Tomo repeated, as if he’d heard her say it thousands of times. He probably had, in his nightmares.

I frowned. “I don’t understand.”

“There’s no good or bad
kami,
Katie,” Ikeda said. “The ink destroys. That’s all.”

“No,” I said. “I don’t believe it. I know Tomo. He has a choice. He makes that choice every day. Descent from Susanou or Tsukiyomi or Amaterasu doesn’t matter. It’s all the same.”

“He can’t win against
two kami,
Katie,” Ikeda shouted, and then I saw the tears blurring in her eyes. “We can’t even win against one!”

Jun shouted suddenly, lost in his own battle. Ink swirled around him in ribbons, not gentle like the ones that lifted as he played cello, but violent like snakes, whipping at him as he tried to push them away.
“Uso,”
he spat. “Not after everything I’ve been through.”

“Jun,” I said, tears blurring in my eyes. I hated seeing everyone I cared about in so much pain. Jun, who had always been composed and calm—to see him writhing on the ground was too much.

“I can’t be the bad guy,” he said, his voice hoarse, his eyes filled with tears. “I can’t. I don’t want to be. Everything...everything is slipping from me. I’ve lost everything. You’ve taken it from me, Yuu.”

He rose to his feet, new wings spreading out in tendrils of ink on his back.

“You don’t know
anything
about me!” Jun shouted, pointing at Tomo. “Anything!” He flapped his wings and tumbled toward a drawing of the paper Katie, clutching it to his chest.

“Takahashi, stop!” Tomo cried out.

With a loud, horrible sound, Jun ripped the page in two.

I screamed as a fire seared through me, as if my body had sliced in two. I dropped to the ground writhing, the world spinning around me. The ghostly glow of the paper Katie dimmed out, and all I could see was blackness. I was losing myself, the way I had when the fireflies attacked me.

“Katie!” Jun shouted as Tomohiro dashed to my side. His warm arms wrapped around me and pulled me from the ground, pressing my head to his chest. Tomo’s eyes were on fire as he stared at Jun. “What the
hell
did you do?”

“No.” Jun shook his head violently, his eyes wide. “It was only supposed to destroy Amaterasu.”

“Katie,” Tomo said, and I struggled to hold on to his voice.

Every breath was ice in my lungs, my skin like frost, but my blood was on fire, like molten lava channeling through Antarctica. I could feel it coursing through my veins. I could almost hear it. It stung, like flame spreading through me, leaving every piece of me scorched.

“It hurts,” I tried to say, but it came out as a mangled scream.

“What do I do?” shouted Tomo. “Takahashi, what do I do?”

Jun hesitated, his eyes wild, his hands outstretched like he was going to wrench me from Tomo’s arms. Maybe he was.

“Takahashi!” Tomo shrieked.

Jun spoke, his voice broken. “Don’t let her lose control. She’s linked to Amaterasu and so she felt her pain. The ink in Katie is fighting back to keep her alive. It’s trying to take over, like it did in you.”

“Stay with me, Katie,” Tomo whispered as he hunched over me. I wanted to reach up and sweep his bangs out of his eyes so I could see them better, but my hand wouldn’t listen to me. It felt like being in someone else’s body and not knowing how to work the controls.