it would happen, no matter what?
That ancient sword that had lain at Jun’s side in the grass, the blade covered in ink. Did that mean Jun would... Would he kill Tomo?
Had he killed Hanchi?
I padded across the cold tatami and opened the drawer of my dresser, pulling out a pair of dark kneesocks and throwing them on the bed.
I didn’t want the ink to dictate my life. I wanted us to choose for ourselves. But were we really free to choose? Tomo had always said he didn’t have a choice.
It was just a dream, anyway. A frightening one, but nothing more.
I grabbed my navy uniform skirt and slid the drawer shut with a thud.
I hesitated, the dream still living vividly in the corners of my mind.
Amaterasu had said Tsukiyomi died long ago. That must mean there was a way to stop him. He had been stopped before.
I looked at my fingers, remembering the slick feel of the ink spreading through Tomo’s hair, pooling on his lifeless body...
I had to figure it out. I was running out of time.
* * *
I knew Tomo wouldn’t be at school, but it didn’t stop me from scanning all the students as they entered the front gates. They entered in groups, laughing and chatting through the chill of the crisp autumn morning. I tugged on the end of my fuzzy plaid scarf, my breath turning to fog in the air. It wasn’t like Tomo and I had any classes together, but knowing that he was at home, that he wasn’t welcome at school, made the crowded space seem empty.
“Katie!”
I turned, and saw Yuki darting toward me, clutching her book bag to her black wool coat. She pressed the bag against my stomach and I folded my hands around the handles without asking. Hands free, she grinned and leaned over, tugging at the kneesock that had coiled around her ankle on the way to school.
“I’m glad to see you here,” she said, straightening again. “I thought you might get suspended!”
I handed back her bag and she smiled. Our shoes crunched the momiji leaves that had fallen off the courtyard trees.
“I’m sorry,” I said, pressing the tips of my fingers together. “I should’ve called you to let you know how it went.”
She waved her hand back and forth and pursed her lips. “I know you’ve been busy,” she said. Truthfully, it wasn’t that. It was that I had so much on my mind I’d become forgetful about the people that mattered.
“I am really sorry,” I said, and her smile brightened. “I didn’t get in much trouble, which is fair because I didn’t do anything.”
“But Yuu-senpai,” she said. “I don’t see him here.”
“Ohayo!” Tanaka pressed his face between ours suddenly, and we jumped back, Yuki screaming as my book bag dropped to the ground.
Yuki sighed. “Tan-kun, you can’t go around terrorizing people on a Monday morning.”
“I’m only terrorizing my favorite people.” He grinned. Yuki shrunk into the coils of her scarf and looked away, her cheeks blazing.
I reached down for my book bag but someone else grabbed it before I could.
“Greene,” Ishikawa slurred. He scratched the back of his bleached-white hair with a hand, the other lazily extending my leather bag to me. “Just the person I wanted to see.”
“Ohayo,” I said, rolling my eyes. Morning. But part of me felt just a little relieved. If I couldn’t see Tomo, at least I could see his best friend. Ishikawa was in on the Kami secret now, and as long as he stayed away from the Yakuza for good, maybe he could be someone we could rely on.
His eyes gleamed. “It’s only my second week back. Did you miss me?”
“Not sure,” I said, pulling open the door to the school genkan. We squeezed past the dozens of students placing their outdoor shoes in the stacked cubbies. “Maybe if you go away again I can let you know.”
“Funny,” Ishikawa said. “But I won’t go away until you tell me what you’ve done with Yuuto. I called him five times yesterday, and he didn’t answer.”
“Five times?” Yuki said.
I swore Ishikawa’s cheeks tinged pink as he offered her a sour smirk. “So? I worry when my sparring partner doesn’t show up for practice. Especially after a nasty prank has been played on him.” His eyes caught mine, and I knew what he was really asking. Was the ink his fault? What had happened with Jun? But it wasn’t safe to talk about it here.
“He’s been suspended,” I said. “For a month.”
Ishikawa’s eyes widened. “Ee”? He reached down and pulled a shoe off, even though the Third Year cubbies were on the other side of the room. “A month? Do you know how out of shape that shrimp is going to get in a month? He’ll lose the nationals!”
“Suntaba’s never placed in the nationals,” Tanaka said. He tapped his toes against the floor to fit on his school slippers. “That’s nothing new.”
“Yeah, but this is Yuuto we’re talking about,” Ishikawa said. “I want to see him beat Takahashi to a pulp.” But he kept looking at me, and I knew he wasn’t talking about kendo.
“You should be careful, too, Ishikawa-senpai,” Yuki said, pulling on the end of her pink scarf until it tumbled down from her neck into her waiting hand. “I heard you almost got suspended for your injury this summer and the fight outside the kendo match.”
“That’s none of your business, First Year,” he sneered, and looked at me. “Do I even know this kouhai?” he asked, hooking a thumb toward her.
“She’s my best friend,” I said, “and she’s right. You’re treading a fine line yourself.”
“Maa, whatever,” he said, running a hand through the white spikes of his hair. “I don’t need to be lectured by juniors.”
The school bell chimed, and Tanaka and Yuki headed down the hallway toward our class. I turned to follow them, but felt Ishikawa’s warm fingers tug on my sleeve.
“Hey,” he said quietly, his voice a hot whisper against my neck, his eyes deep brown and gleaming. “Is Yuuto okay?”
I hesitated. Was he? The nightmare flashed through my mind, and then thoughts of what had happened a few days earlier—fighting Jun in the sky with a rain of ink falling, learning he was linked to Tsukiyomi, that Jun was out for vengeance. I pressed my tongue to my lips, the knowledge of it swirling together in the pit of my stomach. “I don’t know.”
“Let me know what I can do.”
“Hanchi’s dead,” I said.
He looked surprised that I knew, his fingers stiff for a moment before they relaxed their grip. “Yeah.”
My
