paper list slipped off my lap, floating toward the floor and slipping halfway under the couch. The cherry blossom in the corner spun like a pinwheel, and Tomo went rigid beneath me, his breath catching in his throat. “Is that—is it moving?”
I sat up as he grabbed the paper. He frowned as the flower shriveled before us, crumpling into a scribbled ugliness in the corner. “Katie,” he said, his voice deep and troubled.
“I know,” I said. “Ever since your drawing of Amaterasu came to life it’s been happening. But my sketches don’t come off the page like yours. They seem pretty harmless so far.”
“Yeah, but this is...” He ran a hand through the copper spikes of his hair. “Katie, I don’t want this for you.”
“Maybe it’ll stop,” I lied. “It’s not a big deal. We need to worry about you right now. And what’ll happen tomorrow.”
He dropped the page and leaned back into the couch. I curled up on top of him, my shoulder pressed to his collarbone and my nose tucked under his neck. When he spoke, the vibration tickled against my skin.
“Tomorrow,” he said. “Did you talk to your aunt?”
I nodded, my chin grazing his warm skin. “They want her to come in, too.”
The day Tomo had discovered his connection to Tsukiyomi, there had been horrible ink messages dripping from every chalkboard in the school, things like She Must Die and Demon Son. Then ink had poured from every sink in the boys’ change room by the gym. It was a huge mess, and the headmaster was convinced it was Tomo’s fault because of the way he’d reacted. Well, true, the ink probably was his fault, but there’s no way it was the horrible prank they were accusing him of. He’d been just as shocked as any of us to see it. Headmaster Yoshinoma had arranged a meeting for tomorrow with Tomo and his dad, and my aunt Diane and I had to attend, too, seeing as I had been in the change room with Tomo and given the ridiculous excuse that Tomo had been framed. Tomo had said my eyes must have given me away. They’re always earnest, he’d said, which had made my stomach flip over a little.
“Is she still going to let us see each other? Your aunt?” Tomo laughed, but it was dry and empty of humor.
I tried to smile. “So far you’re not making the best impression, no. What do you think will happen, though?”
“Suspension, maybe. Or off the kendo team.”
“They wouldn’t do that. You’re one of the top students, and they need you on the team.”
Tomo reached for my hand and laced his fingers between mine, squeezing with their warmth. “We’ll face it together, whatever it is.”
The colorful anime on the screen blinked off, replaced by a stark newsroom and a bowing reporter in a black suit.
“The news already?” I sat up, pulling out my phone to check the time. “I’ve got to get home.”
“I’ll take you,” Tomo said, but then his eyes went wide and round as he stared at the TV, his hand suddenly limp in mine.
I glanced at the bold white kanji on the screen, at the reporter who rattled off Japanese almost faster than I could follow.
“Sano Chihaya, known as Hanchi, Yakuza oyabun and leader in Shizuoka, aged fifty-seven, found this morning in a puddle of blood...”
My body seized with fear. I couldn’t move, completely immobilized by the memory. The Yakuza boss who’d kidnapped us, who’d forced Tomo to sketch money at gunpoint to save my life. The same one who’d exploited Jun’s father, making him draw drugs and weapons and money, the one who’d tried to recruit Jun after his father’s death. After Jun had killed his own dad, I remembered with a chill. His father had had an affair with one of the Yakuza, and left Jun and his mother with nothing after he took off. Devastated and desperate, Jun had scribbled down horrible messages, words of ink that had instantly and accidentally killed his dad.
“Sano was in Ginza district, Tokyo—” Ginza, the same place Jun’s father had been discovered dead “—when he had what seemed to be a stroke. Collapsed on the sidewalk...” They showed images of the storefront, the police tape and the traffic being redirected. “He appears to have hit his head,” the reporter babbled on, her words like syrup in my ears, thick and almost beyond understanding. “He was found in a significant amount of blood.”
They showed it then, a pale blue plastic tarp stretched over the shape of a body underneath, the blood seeping out the sides, unwilling to be contained, to keep the secret of what had happened.
“Police can’t identify a person of interest at this time. It appears to be accidental, but due to the suspicious circumstances and his Yakuza connection, he will be undergoing an autopsy at the NTT Forensics Center in Shinagawa, Tokyo...”
My heart pressed against my ribs with every beat.
This couldn’t be happening. I could see as clear as day that wasn’t blood.
It was ink.
Tomo squeezed my fingers in his, both of us unable to speak.
Jun...did you do this?
I found my voice after a moment, my words dry and barely above a whisper. “Was it...was it Jun?”
Tomo shook his head. “Hanchi was still trying to recruit a Kami after he realized I was too unstable to be useful,” he said, his voice scratchy and hollow. “Maybe he approached one who fought back.” But Jun had told us over and over how he wanted to rid the world of Yakuza. He’d told us he didn’t need Tomo anymore, now that he knew his true power as a Kami descended from Susanou. The words he’d said echoed in my thoughts. I will make the world cry.
I didn’t want to believe it. I didn’t know what to believe.
“Maybe it was really an accident?” I said. Tomo’s eyes met mine, and we both knew. It hadn’t been blood pooled around Hanchi. The ink was all the proof we needed that a Kami was involved.
I pulled my phone out of my pocket. “I’m going to call Jun.”
“Da-me.” Tomo shook his head, pulling the phone out of my hands. “It’s too dangerous to confront him. If he really had something to do with this, we’re not safe.”
My pulse buzzed in my ears. How could this happen? The world had cracked; everything would shatter. “We should call the police.”
“And tell them what? That Jun murdered someone on a piece of paper? We can’t prove anything. We don’t even know if it was him.”
I drew my knees up tightly, wrapping my arms around my legs. I hadn’t thought Jun was capable of this. I still didn’t believe it. And yet, a small piece of me, a tiny butterfly in the corner of my heart, fluttered with a dark thought. Good. I’m glad Hanchi’s dead.
I didn’t want to think like that. I didn’t want to be glad this had happened.
But
