Rain (6 page)

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.

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.