squeezed my eyes shut. Life is precious, I said to myself. Just like losing Mom. Hanchi was someone’s son. He had family who loved him, right?
Even though he kidnapped you and Tomo? He was willing to kill you both. He had to be stopped.
Yes, but not like this.
How, then? He’s been stopped.
That’s...that’s true. He hurt so many people.
Who’s the monster now? In the end, there is only death.
The butterfly had grown too large, its wings enveloping my every thought. My mind grew dark and tinged with shadow. I could hear the whispers as if they were real. I shook my head to try and empty it, to escape.
“Katie.” Tomo’s voice snapped me back, and I blinked at the brightness of the room. His hand was on my cheek; the warmth of the pads of his fingers pressed against my skin.
I whispered, “What happened?”
“Your eyes,” he said. His face was ghostly pale. “Your eyes changed. Just for a moment.”
My heart was pounding like I’d just sprinted all the way to Shizuoka Station. It was the Kami blood that had awakened. It had enveloped me, just for a moment. I had lost myself.
“Daijoubu?” Tomo asked. Are you okay? I nodded. The darkness felt far away now. There was nothing but light and his warmth around me.
The reporter droned on about Hanchi, and the chill of her voice frosted around the edges of us. Tomo clicked the TV off and wrapped his arms around me.
“Let’s get you home,” he said. “You don’t have to be afraid. If it was Jun, he won’t hurt you. I know it.”
But he might hurt you. And even without Jun, Tomo was still in danger if the ink took control. Ikeda had said Tsukiyomi was a kami more deadly than Susanou. Didn’t that mean Tomo was more dangerous than Jun?
I closed my eyes and breathed in the warm smell of Tomo, let the tickle of his copper hair against my neck sweep away the fear. I’d always known the world of the Kami was dangerous. But with Tomo, I still felt safe. We would be all right if we clung to each other. I had to believe that, no matter what.
* * *
Seeing the Yakuza boss who once kidnapped you lying dead on the streets of Ginza takes the fear out of a reprimand from the school headmaster. Yet here we were, Tomo and me, Diane and Tomo’s dad, sitting in four tiny chairs squished into Yoshinoma’s office. I folded my hands in my lap, squeezing my own fingers as I looked down at the floor. Tomo and I sat in the center, surrounded by the parentals, surrounded by adults who were disappointed in us. I wished Tomo would reach out and take my hand, but I knew he would try to distance himself to protect me from any fallout.
Tomo’s dad rose to his feet; the edges of his suit were so crisp you could probably slice kamaboko loaf with them. He looked agitated and kept checking his watch; I wondered what meeting he was missing for this. If Tomo’s mom was alive, his dad wouldn’t even have to be here. Was he thinking that, too?
He bowed deeply to Yoshinoma. “Moushi wake gozaimasen,” he apologized. “I can’t believe my son would do such a thing. School has always been his top priority.”
“Please, Yuu-san, sit down,” Yoshinoma said, motioning with his hand until Tomo’s dad complied. “We were surprised, as well. He’s mostly been a reliable student, an example in his studies. He’s still maintaining his grades, and he’s advanced further than ever before in his kendo tournaments. But we cannot accept this disrespectful prank on our school.” The headmaster leaned back in his chair. It creaked as he pressed the back of it toward the wall. “I can only imagine that he must have become distracted.”
Tomo’s hand squeezed into a fist. “Kouchou, Katie had nothing to do with this,” he said, his voice tense. This was wrong. He had to stay calm, or we’d be in more trouble. Surely he knew that.
“Neither did Tomohiro-senpai,” I said. I figured now was a good time to put my slightly more formal Japanese into practice. “He didn’t do this.”
“I’m afraid it’s too late for that, Miss Greene,” said Yoshinoma. “It’s true that we don’t have proof that Tomo painted those offensive kanji on the chalkboards, but he was visibly upset about them, and he does have a background in calligraphy. Not just anyone could have written those in the style they appeared. Furthermore, the change room...well, it was full of ink, and students saw him go in. We’re sure he went there to wash up.”
“You don’t know that,” I said, my voice rising. “It wasn’t him. He arrived at school the same time I did that morning. It wasn’t him!”
Diane rested a gentle but urgent hand on my arm, and I hesitated. Was the way I was talking back to the headmaster not okay in Japan? I was probably out of line, but so was Yoshinoma. Tomo hadn’t done any of it—well, it had sort of been him, but it was the ink, the kami blood in his veins. He hadn’t meant for it to happen. He didn’t deserve to suffer for Tsukiyomi’s sake.
Diane’s voice was calm and reasonable as she spoke. I’d never heard her sound so collected before. “Yoshinoma-sensei, these two are good kids. Katie’s working so hard on her kanji to stay at Suntaba and catch up to the other students. The last thing these two would do is jeopardize their future.”
“I agree,” the headmaster said, leaning forward and resting his folded hands on his desk. “But part of growing up is learning there are consequences to your actions.”
Tomo’s dad nodded like he approved, but he kept sneaking peeks at his watch.
Yoshinoma let out a slow, whistling breath between his teeth. “To be honest, some of the teachers have called for expulsion.”
A small gasp escaped Tomo’s lips, his eyes round and horrified.
Tomo’s father wasn’t checking his watch anymore. “Yoshinoma-sensei!”
Yoshinoma’s voice was grave and monotone. “This isn’t the first time he’s caused trouble. He’s been in many fights since his first year.”
Tomo’s father blurted out, “Because his mother passed away, and...”
“That was seven years ago, Yuu-san. And there have been rumors that he fathered a child with a girl from Kibohan Senior High. Is that the kind of student we want to represent our school?”
So, the Shiori rumor had reached the teachers, too. Tomo clenched his hands into tighter fists as his father’s face went white. “That’s not true,” he said, looking down until his chin pressed against the knot of his uniform tie.
I could remember it now, when that knot had been loosened around his neck, his top button undone. Tomo looking up at the wagtail birds as he spread out on the warm field of Toro Iseki, when I’d first stumbled on his secret drawing place. I wanted to take his hand in mine, to pull him to his feet and run back there where we were safe, where no one could reach us. Where we could fly.
Yoshinoma sighed. “Even so, your friend Ishikawa Satoshi was shot this summer, Tomohiro. Yuu-san, do you know what kind of life your boy is up to?”
