sword in the black water. The crocodile’s jaws gaped wide and it almost seemed to smile as it homed in.
‘Kenny, now!’ Kiyomi cried, leaping from a support to land on the creature’s back, tanto in hand. She raised the short sword to strike a killing blow.
In the same instant, Kenny abandoned his search and channelled his inner spirit – his ki – into his right hand. Ribbons of energy laced his knuckles. The crocodile was so close he could feel its rank breath.
‘Chikara!’ Kenny cried. He sidestepped the onrushing jaws and slammed his fist down, punching a crater clean through the crocodile’s skull. It stopped as suddenly as a car hitting a wall and its body somersaulted, pitching Kiyomi across the chamber.
Kenny grimaced, extracted his arm, shook off the greasy brain tissue and went in search of Kiyomi. He needn’t have bothered.
‘You idiot!’ she screamed, rising from the water. ‘I had it! I was about to kill it and then you – you went and did that!’
‘I dropped the sword. What else could I do?’ Kenny said, holding his hands out in apology.
‘And you’re lucky I dropped mine, otherwise I’d gut you right now,’ Kiyomi snarled, shoving him aside as she headed for the stairs.
‘Jeez, what’s all that about?’ Kenny muttered under his breath. ‘And since when can you see in the dark?’
‘That was a trap!’ Kiyomi railed, thumping her fist on the table for emphasis.
‘What makes you so sure?’ Harashima asked. ‘I’m confident that our information was good.’
‘Oh, come on, Papa, don’t tell me you’ve fallen for that whole crocodile-in-the-sewer urban myth?’
They were back at the Harashima residence, in the main room, two hours after leaving Kasukabe. Kenny was sitting in a bathrobe, sipping a hot chocolate, and trying to keep up with the exchange.
‘One, crocodiles are cold-blooded. There’s no way it could live for long in that water. Two, it would need a lot more food than it could find in the river.’ Kiyomi held up her hand while counting off the reasons. ‘Three, how would homeless guys find their way into the G-Cans Project to end up as dinner? And, four, what are the odds of us finding the ugly sucker when no one else could? It was definitely a set-up.’
Harashima turned to Kenny. ‘Kuromori-san, what do you think? Was this creature natural or yokai?’
Kenny pursed his lips. ‘It seemed normal enough, although Kiyomi’s right, this whole thing stinks.’
‘Very well.’ Harashima nodded. ‘I will have the body recovered and we will look closer.’ He clapped a hand on Kenny’s shoulder. ‘You did well, Kuromori-san, very well indeed.’
‘Hey, what about me?’ Kiyomi snapped. ‘I saved Kenny’s butt – again – and I was ready to finish off the croc until Mr Show-off here decided to get cuddly with it.’
‘Cuddly?’ Kenny retorted. ‘What, are you jealous because I’m better at this magic stuff than you are?’
‘Hah! Me, jealous of you? In your dreams!’
‘Enough!’ Harashima barked. ‘Kiyomi-chan, go to your room. Now.’
Kiyomi glared before storming out. Harashima closed his eyes, took a deep breath and held it. After ten seconds, he exhaled slowly.
‘I put you two together today for a reason,’ he said to Kenny. ‘How would you describe Kiyomi-chan’s . . . emotional state tonight?’
‘Uh, well . . .’ Kenny ran his fingers through his damp hair to buy time. He didn’t want to get Kiyomi into any further trouble with her father, but at the same time, she had been acting really weird.
‘As I thought,’ Harashima said. ‘She has anger-management issues, as they call it these days.’
‘You can say that again,’ Kenny agreed. ‘She’s always been a bit fiery, but lately it’s been off the chart.’
‘Something is wrong, Kuromori-san,’ Harashima said, his brow furrowing. ‘You know that my family is sworn to hold the balance, to keep the forces of chaos from dragging Japan backwards, to keep the yokai in check.’
‘Yes, sir,’ Kenny said.
‘I do not know how I can do that if my own family is tearing itself apart. Kuromori-san, I want you to make me a promise.’
Kenny had a sneaking suspicion he wasn’t going to like what came next, but nor could he refuse. ‘OK.’
‘If anything was to happen to me and I could no longer lead this organisation, I would want you to take over as commander to my men.’
Kenny blinked. ‘I-I can’t do that, sir. I’m just a kid. I’m a gaijin. They’d never accept me. Surely your brother is a better bet. Besides, nothing’s going to happen to you.’
Harashima gave a low bow. ‘Kuromori-san, sooner or later, everyone’s time comes to an end. My hope was that Kiyomi-chan would take my place, but as she is now . . .’
A quiet tap on the door signalled that Kenny’s lift home was waiting.
By the time Kenny got back to the two-bedroom flat in Shibuya he shared with his father, it was midnight. He slipped the key into the lock and opened the door gently.
‘Kenny? That you?’ his father called from the main room – a combined living and dining area with a kitchenette.
‘Yeah, Dad.’ Kenny kicked off his soggy trainers and went inside.
Charles Blackwood stood up from his computer desk in the corner, stretched and came over to give his son a hug.
‘Whew, you’re damp,’ Charles noted. He sniffed Kenny’s hair. ‘And you smell like a swamp. You should have a bath before bed.’
‘OK, OK.’ Kenny yawned. ‘And I’ve got school tomorrow.’
‘Is your homework done?’
‘Not yet. I’ll do it on the train in the morning.’
‘That’s hardly ideal. You want anything to eat? Hot drink?’
‘No, I had something over at Kiyomi’s.’
Charles folded his arms. ‘So? How was work?’
‘You know I can’t talk about that, Dad. For your own safety.’
‘Well, what can you talk about?’ Charles appraised his son’s dishevelled appearance. ‘Kenny, don’t take this the wrong way, but you look like hell.’
Kenny laughed. ‘Woo, good thing you cushioned that one.’
‘I mean it. I’m not dismissing the importance of what you do, but . . . you’re making it very hard for me to be a father to you,
