Storm (26 page)

“Katie!” Tomo shrieked. The ink lit with bright gold, and the Magatama around his neck shattered into white-hot pieces, catching on the windstorm and swirling around him. He shrieked like I’d never heard before.

Tsukiyomi was tearing his body apart. Horror welled up as I watched him scream. I’d made the wrong choice. I hunched over to search the brush for the sword. Why had I been so selfish, so weak? I couldn’t bear to lose him, to betray him. I’d sacrificed the world for a selfish desire.

As my hand touched the cross of the sword, Ishikawa’s hand wrapped firmly around the hilt. He pulled the sword from me and screamed his loudest
kiai
, running toward Tomo. His face was racked with tears, his spirit broken as he screamed into the night. The cold realization froze me like ice.

Ishikawa cried out in agony, his heart breaking as he plunged the Kusanagi through Tomo’s heart.

“Tomo!” I shrieked as the ink plummeted like a waterfall. Tomo arched backward as ink dripped from his mouth. I shoved Ishikawa away, wrapping my arms around Tomo’s chest as he lowered to the ground. I cradled him to me, his body limp and heavy, just like in the nightmare. Shards of the Magatama stuck to my palms, flowers of blood springing up from their cuts. I wiped them against my jeans and ran my fingers down Tomo’s face. He was peaceful, his eyes closed, the pain finally gone. “No,” I whispered. “Don’t leave me. It’s not fair.”

I heard the Kusanagi clang against the ground and I turned to see its blade, coated with dark blood and ink. Tomo’s blood. I lunged at Ishikawa, beating my fists against his chest. “You bastard,” I raged. “You total idiot bastard!” He didn’t fight back, nearly choked by his sobs as I attacked him. “What the hell kind of best friend are you?” I shrieked. My heart was shattered like the Magatama. The world moved slowly, dreamlike, as if none of this was real.

Ishikawa fell to his knees, leaning over Tomo. He smoothed the copper bangs out of his eyes and leaned over him, pressing his lips to his forehead.

I shoved him back. “Get away from him!” I shouted between sobs. “You killed him!”

“I had to,” he sobbed. “He was dying, Greene. I couldn’t let him suffer like that.”

I crumpled in on myself, letting the tears overtake me. Ishikawa’s warm arms wrapped around me and I let him hold me as we cried together.

In the end, there is always death
, whispered the voice in my heart.

In the end, there is always life.

My body warmed with a buzzing heat like every nerve was on fire. The earth began to tremble in time with my pulse.

Ishikawa leaned back, his eyes wide. “What’s happening?”

The world felt like fluid gold, like I could see behind what was real to the strings that tied the world together. The ink was malleable here. I could shape it into anything I wanted.

I reached my hand to Tomo’s chest, and the ink in me lit like a flare as it spread to him with its warmth.

Amaterasu had betrayed Tsukiyomi because she loved him, and the betrayal had festered in his heart until now, the cycle happening over and over, in Taira, in Tokugawa and where it had seeded into Tomo’s heart. But as I felt the heat spread to Tomo, I realized something. Ishikawa had stopped Tsukiyomi. Amaterasu hadn’t betrayed him this time.

The cycle is broken
, Amaterasu whispered.
Tsukiyomi can be free from his wrath.

Tomo gasped for breath, sputtering ink as he coughed.

Ishikawa faltered, his eyes wide. “Yuuto,” he whispered.

“Tomo,” I said, squeezing his hand. He squeezed back faintly, and I knew he was regaining strength. The wound in his chest flared with golden light.

He closed his eyes, gritting his teeth as what little power I had went into him. As the ink filled him with life, I felt the emptiness in my heart, the little chair in the corner empty, the whispering voice of Amaterasu lost on the wind.

I’d never been meant to possess the ink, and in the beginning, it had nearly killed me. But in the end, it had given me the power I needed to save everything precious to me.

The light dulled, and then it was just the five of us in the clearing, the clouds gathered above us as the sun dipped below the horizon.

The snow drifted down like cherry petals, gently, softly, covering the world of ink with a layer of pure white. The snow caught on Tomo’s eyelashes and in the spikes of his hair as it fell, as he blinked into the sky.

I heard Jun whimper, and looked over. He had his hands curled around Ikeda’s cold fingers, and the glow of luminescent plum passed between them. Hope fluttered in my heart. Ikeda...was she... Was she alive?

She blinked away the snow on her eyelashes, and Jun burst into relieved tears, leaning over her as the plum light dimmed. He’d been able to share the power of his ink, too, in that golden world, to bring her back from the brink of death.

Ishikawa ran a hand through his white hair, shaking off the snowflakes. The snow was falling heavily now, covering Tomo in a blanket of pure white.

He coughed, turning his head as he held tightly to my hand. “Katie,” he mumbled.

I let out a garbled laugh or cry, my heart bursting. “I’m here.”

“Sato.”

Ishikawa’s eyes lit, and he smoothed the snowflakes out of Tomo’s copper hair. “I’m here, man. I’m always here.”

“You...” Tomo coughed.

Ishikawa leaned in. “Yeah?”

“You...stabbed me in the heart, jackass.”

Ishikawa laughed until the tears fell from his eyes. “I’m your best friend, idiot,” he said between strangled laughs. “Of course I did.”

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m sorry I couldn’t do it.”

Tomo shook his head. “If you had, I’d be dead right now,” he said. “You refused to accept our fate. You fought this until my last breath.
Arigatou.
”

I leaned over and kissed him, the snow on his lips melting between us.

Around us, the snow drifted slowly down, a whirl of white, a world made new.

The snow crunched under my boots as I walked through Sunpu Park. The castle loomed over me, its angled tiles dusted with white. I wove through the courtyard on the way to the station, running my fingers along the giant wooden doors pulled to the sides to let pedestrians through.

It was hard to imagine back to the day Tomo and Jun had fought for the first time, the day everything had started to unravel. The courtyard was silent now, my footsteps echoing on the tiny bridge that arched over the moat.

“Katie!” I looked across the street to see Yuki with Tanaka, a soft pink scarf wrapped around Yuki’s neck, and a handmade red scarf around Tanaka’s. “Did you just get out of kendo practice?”

I nodded.

“
Zannen
na,”
Tanaka whined, pushing his glasses up his nose. “It’s too bad about Tomo-kun. It would’ve been Suntaba’s first time at such a high-ranking tournament.”

Yuki smacked him gently in the arm, her lacy mittens matching perfectly with her scarf.
“Shou ga nai
yo,”
she said. “It can’t be helped. Think about who you’re talking to,
ne
?”

His cheeks flushed pink. “Sorry, Katie-chan.”

“It’s fine,” I said. “There’s always next year.” Except Tomo and Ishikawa wouldn’t be at Suntaba next year. “Kamenashi’s probably going to be the next team captain, but I’ll do my best, too.”

“We’re heading to the coffee place in Oguro,” Yuki said. “Want to come?”

I smiled. “Thanks, but I’m taking Tomo his homework. He’s still recovering from his...kendo accident.” The lame excuse that we’d had to rely on.

Tanaka nodded. “Wish him our best, okay? And tell him Sensei told me my calligraphy’s improved thanks to his help.”

“I will.” I grinned, waving at them.

Yuki waved, a smile on her face, and they turned to walk, Yuki’s hand slipping into Tanaka’s.

I headed down the steps into the tunnels that connected to Shizuoka Station. It would be December next week, almost a full year since I’d been in Japan. Everything had changed since that time, since Mom and I had lived by ourselves in that tiny house in Albany. I hoped she’d be proud of me, of what I’d accomplished. I know she’d be glad about the bond I had with Diane, that we somehow completed the puzzle of each other, even without our missing pieces.

I walked past the metal train gates just as Jun stepped up to them. His eyes caught mine as he slid his ticket into the slot. It zipped into the machine and the gates opened. He leaned forward, his blond highlights slipping in front of his ears.

“Katie,” he said quietly as the travelers milled around us in a cloud.

“Jun.”

It felt like the whole world was moving but us, like time had stopped.

He shifted the bag on his shoulder, his bangs tilting to one side, nearly cover his eye.
“Genki?”

I nodded. “Things are good,” I said. “You?”

“I just got back from visiting Ikeda in Kenritsu Hospital,” he said. “She’s awake now, starting to eat on her own.”

Relief flooded through me. “That’s great. That’s wonderful.”

“Yeah.”

“So...you’re done, then?” I meant the Kami taking over, the attack on the Yakuza.

“The price was too high,” he said, rubbing his silver earring between his fingers. “When I almost lost Ikeda...what you said was right. It’s not worth it, not now. How many others would die in a Kami war?” He shifted his weight, looking around to make sure no one was listening to us. “Maybe it’s better if the ink is kept a secret for a while longer. Power is something others will kill for, and I don’t want people like Ikeda to get hurt.” He sighed. “Times haven’t changed that much since the Samurai and Imperial Kami fought each other. I know how Tsukiyomi felt. I still don’t like the state of the world, but...there are other ways for now.”

For now.
“Then...”

Jun smiled. “I gave up some of Susanou’s power to save her,” he said. “It’s going to take a while to be quite as powerful as I once was.”

I bit my lip. “Do you want to be that powerful?”

“Everyone wants the power to change the world.” He grinned, kicking at the marble floor with his shoe. “But it takes time to learn how to use it.”

“So...what now?”

He tilted his head. “It’d be better if we don’t talk too much. After the suspicion around Yuu and me, and now with Ikeda in the hospital... I don’t want the police to focus in on any of us much.”

“You know, there’s no justice for the people you killed,” I said.

He paused. “I know. But I can’t exactly turn myself in. I’m just going to do what I can to make things right. And that starts with Ikeda. She’s put up with so much.”

I nodded.

“I’ve got to go,” he said. I looked at him, his once-cold eyes melted. He’d never looked so human.

“Want to go for that coffee?” I asked, confident of his answer, wanting to end things completely.

He bowed his head.
“Gomen,”
he apologized. He stepped into the crowd of passengers and I lost sight of him. I wondered if I’d ever speak to him again. I started to turn, but then his hand shot up in the middle of the crowd, a farewell as he kept walking, putting distance between us.

I wondered if it was true, that his power could return. I didn’t think you could get Kami ink back that you’d relinquished. I certainly couldn’t feel the ink in my veins anymore. None of my sketches even fluttered a tiny bit. It was like I’d dreamed it all.

I grabbed Diane’s bike from where she’d left it for me in the parking shelter, and then turned northeast for Otamachi Ward. I sailed along the streets in the snow, the tires slippery through the slush. I turned the corner and nearly collided with a girl.

I slammed on the brakes, skidding in the snow, and bowed my head.
“Sumimasen,”
I excused myself.

The girl looked at me, her eyes wide and her hair slicked back into a ponytail. “Katie?”

Oh god. “Shiori?” I felt itchy and awkward. I wasn’t sure what to say.

But she smiled warmly, and then I saw the bundled-up baby in her arms, the tiny little face that was so new to this world. She wore a soft pink coat with teddy bear ears sewn onto it.

“She’s okay,” I said, and Shiori nodded.

“We were out of the hospital by the end of the week. She’s doing great.”

“What’s her name?”

Shiori jiggled the squirming girl up and down. “Aya,” she said.

I reached my mittened hand toward her, stroking the girl’s tiny cheek. “Aya-chan,” I said as she wriggled in Shiori’s grip.

“We’re on our way home from the store,” she said, lifting a crinkling white bag in her hand.

“Oh,” I said. “I thought...” I shut up, but knew it was too late as the heat rose up my neck.

“You thought we were coming back from Tomo’s place?” she said. I couldn’t do anything but nod. A thoughtful look came on her face as she stared down the street, but then Aya twisted in her arms and she pulled her up to her shoulder.
“Maa,”
Shiori said quietly, patting the little girl’s back. “The truth is, these days I have someone else I love even more.” She smiled at me, little dimples forming on her cheeks. I smiled back. Shiori wasn’t alone, not anymore.

I curled my mitts around the handlebars and nodded to her as I cycled down the street. The tires skidded in the snow, but I loved the feeling of the fresh wind pressing against my face.

I leaned the bike against the silver nameplate on the wall that said The Yuu Family and pressed the buzzer. The gate unlocked and I walked up to the door just as Tomo pulled it open. His arm hung in a cast strapped around his neck, his torso covered in bruises and cuts. His blue pajama bottoms hung at an angle off his lean hips, and his copper hair was pressed in awkward angles, like it had just been slept on. He still had a sleepy expression on his face. He must have been napping.

He lowered his head to scratch the back of his neck, and I saw that the black roots of his hair were growing in. He caught my eye, and smirked. “What are you looking at?”

“What, no hello?”

“Hello. What are you looking at?”

I grinned. “Your hair,” I said. “You look nice with black hair.”

He looked horrified, like I’d caught him tap-dancing or something. He grabbed the top of his head with his palm while I giggled. “It’s cute,” I said, stepping into the
genkan
and resting my bag on the raised floor, reaching down to pull my boots off.

His chest pressed against my back suddenly as he held me tightly, his good arm wrapped around my shoulders. The smell of vanilla and miso flooded my thoughts as I breathed him in, the tickle of his hair against my neck and cheek.

“Tomo,” I said quietly. I curled my fingers around his arm, closing my eyes as I lived in his embrace, as he encompassed my world.

“I didn’t think I’d get to do this again,” he said. “I thought it was over.”

Me, too.
But I didn’t want to give it a voice. It was past now. We’d fought, and we’d won.

Tomo released me and held the back of my coat with one hand as I slid my arms out of the sleeves. We went up to his room, where he smoothed out his comforter, his cheeks flushed pink.

“Were you sleeping?” I grinned.

“No,” he said, straightening the edges of the blanket. “I was, um, I was studying.”

“Mmm-hmm.” I looked at his desk, a mound of entrance exam books on one side, a stack of application forms on the other. “Tokyo University of the Arts,” the top paper said. My heart swelled. “Tomo.”

“Hmm?”

“You’re applying to Geidai?”

He tried to keep a straight face, but I could hear the delight in his voice. “
Maa.
I thought I might as well write the exam, and then we’ll see.”

Two weeks ago, he couldn’t write
sword
without getting killed. Now he could study art freely. “And your dad?”

Tomo let out a laugh. “Some things never change,” he said. “But he’ll come around eventually. Maybe.”

I opened my bag and placed the homework in between the piles of papers and textbooks.

“Oh,
sankyu
,” he said.

“You’re welcome. It gives me an excuse to see you every day.”

He laughed. “You don’t need a reason.”

“How’s your arm?” It had been dislocated and broken when Tsukiyomi’s power had nearly ripped him apart. When you watched him climb the stairs, you could easily notice he’d pulled a muscle in his leg, too. Between the injuries and the bruises, he’d had to drop out of the national kendo tournament.

“Doctor said I should be able to write the entrance exams in February if I follow his rules carefully.”

“And are you?”

Tomo grinned slyly.

“Tomo.”

“I don’t take orders well.”

I sighed, lying back on his bed. “Entrance exams are important, you know.”

“Katie.” His voice was deep and lovely, and I wanted to kiss him over and over, now that we were free. But instead I sat up as he sat beside me, as he passed me a cute cartoon notebook. It had little pandas and brown bears picnicking on a background of soft blue, complete with sakura trees and smiling
onigiri
rice balls.

“What’s this?” I said.

His cheeks reddened. “Open it.”

I turned the cover slowly, and my mouth opened in surprise. “Oh.”

It was a new notebook of drawings, sketches more beautiful than I’d ever seen. Flowers sketched with shadows of gray and careful lines of black, so real I swore I could smell them. Drawings of wagtails and deer, of horses galloping and dragons lifting into the sky. I turned the pages quickly, hungry for more. The beauty overwhelmed me, overtook me, until I’d forgotten everything but the softness of the pencil lines, the special voice of Tomohiro that had no words.

This was how he saw the world. This was what was in his heart. He drew other things, but what he was really drawing was himself—bare, raw, beautiful.

I turned the next page and hesitated.

He’d drawn me. My face, turned to the side as I looked out a train window, my hair slipping out of a ponytail in messy strands. I turned the page and it was me again, the curve of my back and my leg as I sat on the edge of a pool, my head turned up toward the sky. And another, where I sat at a desk, my head propped up on my hand, my pencil on my notebook, wisps of hair catching on the wind from the open window.

I turned the page. A half-finished sketch of me reaching for a book on his bookshelf, a sheet clutched to my body like one of those marble statues. It clung to my body in a pretty intimate way, and I found my cheeks getting hot as I looked at it.

Tomo laughed nervously, pulling the book out of my hands. “You weren’t supposed to see that one.” He closed the cover of the book, putting it gently on his bed. “I couldn’t really fill in the details yet, anyway.”