Foxfire (An Other Novel) (18 page)

Before the flood of inevitable questions, I speak first. “Let me explain.”

We all return to the table, and with a lot of jasmine tea to wet my mouth, I tell them what happened: Yukimi, the inugami, the anburojia, the photo of my father, everything. Tsuyoshi and Michiko listen politely, nodding, not asking questions. But Gwen makes little noises of surprise or impatience, and I can tell she wants to talk.

“And then Gwen and I made it back here,” I say.

“Your grandmother and I are glad that you are safe.” Tsuyoshi’s voice sounds scratchy. “It must be difficult to learn what you have. We understand if you don’t wish to talk about it further.”

I shrug. “I’ve barely had time to think about it, to be honest.”

“Tavian.” The word bursts out of Gwen. “What are you going to do? Zenjiro knows where Yukimi is.”

My stomach lurches. “He could be bluffing.”

“What if he isn’t?”

Tsuyoshi interrupts. “Yukimi can take care of herself.”

But she doesn’t know the inugami are coming, and that the Lair is no longer safe. I rake my fingers through my hair and grab fistfuls of it, twisting until it hurts. I thought I needed to come here, to help my grandparents, but in fact Yukimi is in the most danger right now. What will the inugami do to her?

“I need to warn her,” I say.

“Do you have her phone number?” Michiko says.

“No, of course not.”

“Email address?”

I glance at my grandmother and see the challenging look in her eyes. “I know you don’t want me to go back there, but I can’t let them hurt her.”

“Yukimi can take care of herself,” Tsuyoshi repeats.

“She doesn’t know they’re coming!” I’m shouting, I don’t mean to, and I take a deep breath. “Sorry.”

“Tavian,” Gwen says. “Can’t you enter her dreams?”

“You think she’s sleeping right now? I ran away from her in the middle of the city. She must be looking for me.”

“Then let her find you,” Michiko says, folding her hands on the table.

I grit my teeth. “Zenjiro is watching this place.”

“Octavian.” Tsuyoshi stands from the table. “I will call Kazuki and your mother and let them know you are safe.”

I wince. “You told them already?”

Tsuyoshi’s face darkens. “You were missing for a night and a day. And most of this night. They deserve to know.”

“All right.” I rise to my feet. “Let me talk to them.”

He hands me the phone, and I retreat to my bedroom.

Gwen lingers in the doorway. “What are you going to tell them?” she says in a low voice.

I rub my face with my hands. “I don’t know, Gwen. I just got back here after running like hell, and now I find out I was running the wrong
way.”

She shuts the door behind her. “You can’t go back out there.”

“What else am I going to do?”

“You think shapeshifting back into a fox is a good idea?”

I make a noise between a growl and a sigh, then slump on the floor against the bed. Gwen sits by me and I wrap my arm around her shoulders. Some of the tension melts from my muscles. I kiss her, softly at first, then harder, until she sighs against my lips.

“Don’t leave,” she says, “without taking me.”

I look into her eyes, see how they glimmer from hazel to gold. “So you do want to go?”

“Not without a plan.”

“Of course.” I squint. “You’re actually being less reckless than I am? This astounds me.”

She bites back a smile. “Stop it. You’re too tired to be sarcastic.”

“Maybe.” I stare at the phone in my hand. I know the numbers I need to press, but I don’t want to. “Wait a minute … ”

“What?”

I run over to my luggage and unpack the little blue netbook my dad insisted that I bring, even though I told him I’d be more likely sketching than Photoshopping on this trip.

“There’s wifi in here, right?” I ask Gwen.

She shrugs. “I think so.”

I boot the netbook and sit on the edge of my bed, joggling my leg as I wait for it to load. “Come on … ”

Gwen peers over my shoulder. “What’s your brilliant idea?”

“I don’t have Yukimi’s phone number, but I can get somebody else’s. Think about it. Who’s known Yukimi for a long time, trusts her with his life, and also runs a restaurant?”

She only has to think about it for a second. “The oni. Ozuru.”

“Bingo.” I type as fast as I can on the miniature keyboard. “I remember the name of the place … the Fat Oni. Let’s see if I can pinpoint an address and phone number.”

“Do you think they’re still open?”

“It’s a yakitori bar kind of thing.” I click on links for food reviews, directories, maps, until— “There!”

Gwen hands me back the phone and I punch in the number.

It rings, rings, then picks up. “The Fat Oni, how may I help you tonight?” A woman’s voice.

“Is Ozuru there?” I say.

“Ozuru?” The woman hesitates. “He’s busy right now. Can I take a message for you?”

“It’s urgent. Please, I need to talk to him.”

“And your name is?”

“Tavian.”

I hear nothing but the background din of conversation and the sizzling of yakitori on the grill. Then, the sound of the phone changing hands. “Hey, this is Ozuru, who am I talking to?”

“Tavian. Yukimi’s son.”

A long pause. “How did you get this number?”

“Google.”

“Kit, it’s one in the morning.” Ozuru sounds gruff. “What are you calling for? Does your mother know about this?”

“No, she doesn’t.” I talk quickly before he can cut me off. “You need to find her, Ozuru. You need to tell her that the inugami are coming for her, and that the Lair isn’t safe anymore.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

I blow out my breath. “Zenjiro Matsuzawa tracked me down. And he strongly implied he knows where the Sisters are.”

“God damn it.” Ozuru sighs. “I’ll go find her. Thanks for the tip.”

“And tell her I’m safe right now,” I add. “With my grandparents.”

“Will do.”

He hangs up, and I set down the phone.

“So he’s going?” Gwen says, who was eavesdropping.

I nod. “Hopefully he’ll find her in time.” I stare at the phone in my lap. “Now I need to call my parents.”

eighteen

A
lone in my bedroom, I sit on my bed, my back against the wall, and stare out the window at the city. The phone rings once. Twice. Three times. Maybe it will go straight to voicemail, and I won’t have to—

“Hello? Do you have news about Tavian?”

It’s Mom.

A lump forms in my throat. I swallow hard. “It’s me, Mom.”

“Tavian! Are you all right? Where are you? Let me get your father, he was just heading out to work … ”

It must be early morning there. I shut my eyes and try to imagine my dad chugging down coffee and blundering into things while reading a book with breakfast, and my mom opening all the blinds to let the gray overcast light of morning inside.

There’s a click and scuffling sound. “Tavian?” It’s Dad.

“I’m here,” I say. “I’m back with Tsuyoshi and Michiko. I’m safe.”

“What happened to you?” Dad says. “Where did you run off to?”

“I didn’t run off,” I say. “I found Yukimi.”

Dead silence. I use this opportunity to tell them everything I told my grandparents. It’s bizarre describing my biological mother to Mom, or telling Dad that my biological father was yakuza. I hear a little intake of breath from both of my parents when I tell them that Zenjiro Matsuzawa has been hounding me.

“I don’t know what Zenjiro wants.” I laugh bleakly. “To adopt me?”

“That’s ridiculous,” Mom says.

“I mean, I’m his grandson,” I say. “His only grandson. But I’m also the son of a nogitsune they’ve been hunting for years. Yukimi told me that Zenjiro might find me ‘useful.’”

“That’s how yakuza operate,” Dad says, his tone thick with cynicism. “I don’t know much about Zenjiro in particular, but he likely wants to use you as leverage against Yukimi and kitsune in general.”

Mom exhales in a hiss. “I don’t care who Zenjiro thinks he is,” she says, getting all fierce. “I have an attorney friend or two who can sue him into submission. Hell, I’ll even do it myself.”

“Mom!” I groan. “Don’t sue anybody.”

“Zenjiro can’t be trusted,” Dad says.

“Obviously,” I say.

Dad clears his throat. “Even if he’s your grandfather by blood.”

I grimace. “I know.”

“It’s too dangerous there,” Mom says. “Tavian, you’re coming home. Don’t worry, we can change your ticket so you can fly home before New Year’s; you’ll be safer back in the U.S.”

A flock of anxieties flutters through my stomach. “I can’t. Not without the naming ceremony. I need Yukimi’s blood, and her true name. And since I can’t have the blood of Akira, I need one of his bones.”

“So a little bit of DNA and some mumbo-jumbo is going to cure you?” Dad says, not even bothering to disguise the skepticism in his voice. “Sounds like modern medicine to me.”

I grit my teeth. “Maybe I’m a mumbo-jumbo kind of person.”

“Tavian, ignore your father,” Mom says. “Could you explain the naming ceremony again, for me?”

“Well, Shizuka would perform a ritual, and grant me my true name. With my true name, I should be able to control my kitsune magic and stop it from killing me. I know, it sounds frustratingly mystical. Shizuka didn’t exactly give away any trade secrets.”

“Okay,” Mom says.

“I know you’re not totally convinced,” I say. “I’m not, either. But this is my only shot.”

“We don’t know that,” Dad says. “We’ve been in touch with a doctor—”

“Dad!” I fight the urge to shout. “Let me try this.”

Another long silence.

“I promise I’ll keep in touch,” I say. “And I’ll try not to drop off the face of the earth. But I need to do this.”

“Kazuki,” Mom says, “he’s old enough to make his own decisions.”

Dad grumbles something that sounds like a tectonic plate moving.

“Please?” I say.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” Dad says.

I lower my head and sigh. “I won’t. Thank you.”

“Text me,” Mom says. “Oh, your phone is broken, I remember. Well, buy a new phone and text me.”

“I’ll try to keep this one intact,” I say dryly.

“We’d better go,” Mom says. “We’re going to be late to work soon. Good night, Tavian.”

“Good night,” I say. “Or rather, good morning.”

Mom laughs a tired little laugh. “Love you!”

“Love you, too.”

Dad grunts, his version of
love you.

I hang up, then drop the phone. Exhaustion overtakes me, turning my bones to lead and my muscles to mush. I fall back onto my bed, spread-eagle, and exhale in a rush.

“Tavian?” Gwen whispers.

I pry open my eyes a crack. She’s standing over me in her pajamas, wearing a blanket like a poncho.

“I heard some of that,” she says. “You were talking kind of loud.”

“Sorry,” I say. “I’m done now. You can sleep.”

“It’s too cold.” With that as her excuse, Gwen crawls into bed next to me. “Let me steal some of your warmth.”

I wriggle out of my jeans and toss them over the edge of the bed. The two of us snuggle together under the blankets and I tug her closer, feeling the length of her body against mine.

“How are you feeling?” Gwen says.

I think for a moment. “Bad?”

“That’s not really what I meant.”

I sigh. “Like an impostor.”

Gwen props herself on one elbow to look at my face in the dim light. “What do you mean?”

“Like I shouldn’t be here, with Michiko and Tsuyoshi.”

“Why?”

I swallow back the bitterness. “I’m not really their grandson.”

“That’s not true. They adopted you.”

“It doesn’t matter who adopted me. I’m the son of a nogitsune and a yakuza. I might as well paint a big red target on my forehead and go stand out in the middle of the street.”

“Hey. No being melodramatic,” Gwen says.

“If I knew this was going to be such a melodrama, I don’t think I would have ever set foot in Japan again.”

“You aren’t glad you found Yukimi? Or learned about your father?”

I stare heavenward, my eyes tracing patterns in the darkness. “Not glad,” I say. “But I needed to know.”

Gwen snakes her arms around me and squeezes me. “You’re going to get your true name. And then we’re going to go home, and this will all be a story we can tell people together.”

My eyes sting, my throat burns. “I hope so,” I whisper.

Seconds slip into minutes. Gwen’s breathing deepens and her arms slide away from me, limp with sleep. I close my eyes and will my breathing to slow, but I can’t fall asleep.

I’m afraid of my own dreams.

I hunch over the bathroom sink and cough so hard my ribs ache. The taste of iron lingers on my tongue. I swish water in my mouth, then spit. Red swirls on the ivory porcelain.

I freeze, my hands gripping either side of the counter. Blood?

There’s a soft rap on the door. “Tavian?” It’s Gwen.

“I’ll be out in a minute,” I say.

I open my mouth wide to see if maybe I bit my tongue, but I can’t see any wounds. The tickle in my throat starts scratching again, and I gulp another cup of water to try to drown it.

“Are you okay?” Gwen says. “I heard you coughing.”

“Sorry,” I say. “I didn’t want to wake you up.”

I wipe my mouth on a tissue and throw away the evidence, then open the door and try to look okay for Gwen’s benefit. She doesn’t seem convinced, her face pale enough to lose her freckles again.

“You don’t look okay,” she says.

There’s no point in lying, is there?

“It’s the anburojia,” I say. “You were right, it was masking the pain of shapeshifting.”

She comes into the bathroom and shuts the door behind her. “Tavian?”

“What?”

“How sick are you?”

My hands tremble as I fill my glass for another drink of water. I sip slowly, then start coughing halfway through, sputtering into the sink. Blood, unconcealable evidence of my body failing.

Gwen’s eyes grow huge. “That’s not good.”

I wipe my mouth off on another tissue. “You think I should wake up my grandparents? I don’t want to go back to that useless hospital. Those doctors didn’t know anything about kitsune.”

“I don’t know. Do you want to wake them up, or should I do it?”

“You? Please?”

She sighs, then stalks out of the bathroom.

When my grandparents arrive, I get the same huge eyes.

“Come on,” Michiko says. “Lie down in bed. Tsuyoshi, help him.”

I shake my head. I’m not about to lean on my elderly grandfather for support. I can hobble to the bedroom myself. My head feels like a balloon on a string, floating high above my body. I lie down on my bed and watch the room spin like a demented merry-go-round.

“What happened to him?” Tsuyoshi asks Gwen.

“I don’t know,” she says. “I woke up when he started coughing, and then I saw him coughing blood—”

“Coughing blood?” Michiko’s face looks ashy. “How much?”

“Not very much,” I say hoarsely. “And by the way, I can still talk. I’m not a total invalid, you know.”

Tsuyoshi glowers at me like too much sarcasm is bad for my health.

“We think it was the fruit,” Gwen says. “The anburojia.”

Michiko looks to Tsuyoshi. “We should call the myobu. See if Shizuka will come this early in the morning.”

Tsuyoshi glances at his watch. “It’s nearly dawn. She will come.”

With another hefty donation to the temple, of course she will.

“We trust Shizuka?” I say. “We know she’s working with Zenjiro.”

Tsuyoshi doesn’t even answer, just leaves the room.

Michiko sits beside me and pats my hand. “Sometimes,” she says gently, “the best way to fight the yakuza is to not fight them at all. Shizuka will be able to help you with your sickness.”

I stare at her. “So you’re saying if we give up, we win?”

“You misunderstand me,” Michiko says.

Clearly.

“The more you struggle,” she says, “the more it will hurt.”

I stare at her. “Are you saying that I should give myself up? Let the myobu hand me over to the yakuza? I don’t know what Zenjiro wants from me, but I don’t think it’s good.”

“If we believed Shizuka would betray you,” Michiko says, her eyes sharp, “we wouldn’t call her here.”

“For enough of a price, she will,” I point out.

Tsuyoshi returns, telephone in hand. “She will be here shortly.”

Shortly turns out to be about twenty minutes. I spend that time hunched over in bed, wracked by another coughing fit, and try not to panic at the blood-speckled tissues in my hand. Gwen sits beside me, handing me tissues, her mouth set in a grim line.

Shizuka appears in the doorway to the bedroom. She’s dressed in a storm-gray kimono—not a twelve-layered one, though—and has snowflakes in her tightly-pinned hair. Her eyes glint amber as she looks at me, so like Yukimi’s that my heartbeat stutters. Then again, my heartbeat has been stuttering on its own lately.

“What can you do to help him?” Michiko says.

“Let me determine that.” Shizuka’s voice sounds as silky as ever. “Please, some privacy.”

Michiko and Tsuyoshi bow—too low, if you ask me—and exit the room.

As Gwen walks past Shizuka, she looks at the woman with guarded fascination. But of course Gwen’s never seen a myobu before, and she’s always fascinated by new Others.

No matter how untrustworthy they might be.

As soon as we’re alone, I swing my legs over the edge of the bed and sit up—a little too quickly. Darkness constricts my vision. I fight it, refusing to show any weakness on my face.

“You have worsened quicker than I expected,” she says.

“Shizuka,” I say, “I already know what’s wrong. I ate some anburojia and shapeshifted when I shouldn’t have.”

“Anburojia?” Shizuka arches a delicate eyebrow.

“You know, the golden fruit that tastes bitter to humans but sweet to people like us, and enhances our magic.”

“Supposedly,” she says. “I believe the substance should be illegal.
”

“Illegal? Well, that’s not really a surprise.”

“Anburojia acts as a powerful stimulant to the mind,” Shizuka says, “and possesses the ability to numb the body. In your case, it would merely mask the negative effects of your condition. Did Yukimi explain this to you before giving you the anburojia?”

“No.” My face heats. “She said it would help me.”

“And did she explain to you the nature of foxfire?”

“Foxfire? No.” I pause. “And you never really did, either.”

A thin smile touches Shizuka’s lips. “True.”

A cough claws its way up my throat, and I hurriedly swallow another glass of water. “I remember”—I gulp some air—“that you said foxfire was the same as a kitsune’s magic.”

“Yes. Or rather, foxfire is the expression of a kitsune’s magic. Just as intelligence is the expression of your mind, and strength the expression of your muscles. All kitsune possess this talent, to varying degrees. But for a half-kitsune such as yourself, the physical limitations of your weaker body obstruct the expression of foxfire.”

I frown. “Wouldn’t that stop me from doing any magic?”

“You aren’t human enough for that.” Shizuka’s eyes soften, until she’s looking at me with something revoltingly similar to pity. “Your body is being eroded by the foxfire, like a rock too soft to channel the flow of a river. The river slows as its path becomes more and more winding, but it never stops until the rock has completely worn away.”