laugh.
I shuffled closer to the tent as the group of kids left, a teen couple the only ones left trying to catch a fish. The girl trailed a goldfish slowly with the paddle, her movements deliberate and cautious, her giggle rising when the fish caught on and sped away. She crouched on the ground beside the pool, paddle in one hand and bowl in the other, her red-and-gold yukata crinkling around her geta sandals.
And then I realized I knew this girl.
The pregnant bump of her stomach under the light cotton of the yukata.
And the boy beside her. Tomohiro.
Not kidnapped. Not falling apart. Not dead.
Scooping goldfish with Shiori.
I stepped back. He hadn’t noticed me yet, the two of them laughing as Shiori tried to maneuver another fish into her bowl.
I knew he was here with Shiori as a friend, supporting her. He wouldn’t give up on us that fast, like we didn’t matter at all. Maybe that was the attitude he portrayed at school, but I knew better. After a sketching accident had left his elementary-school friend Koji almost blind, he’d decided to keep his distance from everyone, except his childhood friend Shiori, and now me. Shiori had been abandoned to the cruel bullying that came with being pregnant at her prestigious school. Tomo knew what it was like to be alone. That’s all this was.
But it still bothered me. I had to admit they made a cute pair. Seeing the closeness between them, seeing Tomohiro smile at another girl like that...I felt stupid suddenly, tall and ugly and awkward in my borrowed yukata.
Maybe Tomohiro wasn’t as dangerous as Jun had led me to believe. He seemed normal enough squatting beside Shiori, his eyes following the goldfish, that smile on his face. He wore jeans and a dark T-shirt, the usual thick wristband around his right wrist. I could still imagine the ink stains streaking up his arms, the scars hidden on the inside curve of his skin, but in the evening darkness there was no trace of what had happened. He looked so...normal.
Maybe staying in Japan had been the wrong choice. What if staying away from Tomo really did give him the ability to rein in his powers? Maybe the Kami didn’t need me—maybe he didn’t need me.
“Yatta!” Shiori shouted. “I did it!” The fish had slipped from her paddle into the bowl. The vendor laughed and reached for a plastic bag to fill with water.
“Yatta ne,” Tomohiro grinned, reaching his fingers into the bowl to chase the fish.
I stepped back and my flip-flop scraped against the street. Tomohiro and Shiori looked up.
I stared at Tomohiro’s dark eyes. They were unreadable, the smile slipping from his face as he stared back. They weren’t cold like Jun’s had been, not at all. They were warm, surprised, deep. I couldn’t look away, like prey. I felt ridiculous.
Shiori stood up, a hand on her belly. “It couldn’t be...Katie-chan? Is that right?” Tomohiro stayed crouched on the ground, unable to move.
I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. I didn’t want her using chan with me, labeling me a friend. It was a closeness that felt stifling, that only made me aware I didn’t really belong. Tomo had fallen seamlessly back into his life with her, as if I’d never existed.
“I thought you returned to America?” Shiori said.
“Canada,” I said. My throat felt sticky and dry.
“Hai!” the vendor said, thrusting the newly bagged goldfish at Shiori.
“Thank you,” she smiled, reaching for the bag.
“Katie,” Tomohiro said, his voice deep and beautiful and just how I’d waited to hear it. Everything shattered.
“Sorry,” I whispered before turning to walk away. I pressed my way through the thick crowd, desperate to get away. I knew I was being stupid. I knew there was nothing between him and Shiori. But it stung, and I had to get away from them.
Behind me, even in the midst of all the festival noise, I was sure I heard Tomohiro call my name, but I kept walking. I wanted to see him, but not like this. I thought he’d been losing his mind to the ink—why did he seem just fine?
I should’ve left Japan after all. This was all a mistake.
I pushed past the takoyaki stand and the rows of roasted corn, turning down a darker street where some shrine-goers rang a bell and carried lanterns. I wove past them toward the big Abe River Bridge. It was late, probably about time for the fireworks. If I could just find Yuki and Tanaka, maybe I would be okay.
“Katie!”
I kept walking, but I could hear his footsteps, his black shoes clicking as he ran toward me. Suddenly his warm fingers wrapped around my wrist.
“Matte!” he said. Wait, like his ex-girlfriend Myu had said to him in the genkan when I’d first seen him.
I stood for a moment, staring at the swaying lanterns as the parade walked past. He held my wrist gently, and I knew I could shrug him away if I wanted to.
“Why?” he panted. “Why are you here? In Japan?”
“I called you,” I said, but my voice wavered. I wanted to be stronger—I did—but after two weeks of worrying, having him standing here unharmed was more than I could handle. “You’ve had your keitai off for two weeks! I tried calling the house but it never cut to voice mail. I sent you a text.” Okay, more than one. “I even thought about visiting Ishikawa in the hospital to find out where you were, but I didn’t want to get him involved in case...in case there was trouble. I thought you were taken by the Yakuza or the Kami or something!” I left out that I’d biked to his house, but chickened out about ringing the bell when I’d seen his dad’s car parked outside. If Tomo was missing, he’d have reported it, right? I mean, it would’ve been on the news and everything.
“I didn’t know you were here,” he said. He ran a hand through his hair, the wristband snagging on the strands, pulling his bangs into little copper loops that sprung back into his eyes. “Che!” he swore. “You’re worrying if I’m okay and I’m scooping goldfish at a festival. If I’d known...”
“I tried!”
“I was getting weird calls from the Yakuza. Threats to stay quiet about what happened to Sato. I barely deleted one on the home phone before Tousan heard it. My dad would’ve made me go to the police, so I turned off the voice mail and my keitai.”
“Maybe you should go to the police,” I said. I hadn’t been far off the mark after all. The picture looked tranquil on the surface, but the tendrils of darkness spread beneath it. Nothing was normal after all—I’d been right.
“You know I can’t,” he said, his eyes searching mine. “They stopped last week, but then the Kami calls started. I wanted to phone you, to know you made it safely to Canada, but...I was scared they’d trace the call somehow. And now you’re here.”
“I
