“Maybe we should go,” said Tanaka.
“It’s fine,” said Tomohiro. “Come in. Did you have breakfast yet?”
They exchanged glances.
“What?”
“It’s almost noon,” Tanaka said. Yuki looked like she was going to burst. She kept stifling her nervous giggles.
“Well, lunch, then.” Tomohiro grinned. Somehow the color had returned to his face and he looked filled with confidence.
I really hated him.
Tomohiro pawed through the fridge and pried out various bowls and bottles. He lifted a pot onto the stove top and started mixing dashi powder into a stock.
Yuki grabbed my elbow and yanked me into the hallway.
“I can’t believe it!” she squealed in a whispered voice. “You and Yuu last night!”
“It’s not like that.”
“What’s he like?” she said. “I bet his tough thing is a facade. He’s got a gentle touch, right?”
“Yuki!”
“Okay, okay.” She giggled. “But he cooks? I never expected our kendo champ to cook. Next thing you’ll be telling me Ishikawa does creative dance.”
I listened to her babble while Tanaka chatted with Tomohiro in the kitchen. The smell of bonito fish and miso wafted from the kitchen, Yuki’s excited Japanese curling off her tongue.
Why were all these things so familiar to me now?
Did I really want to leave all this behind?
Chapter 18
After lunch, Yuki squeezed my hand and told me she and Tanaka were going for karaoke. For a minute I swore Tanaka was blushing, but the next minute he looked normal.
“I can’t,” Tomohiro said. “I have to visit a friend in the hospital.”
“I’m going, too,” I said.
“You don’t have to.”
“I know.”
We waved to Tanaka and Yuki in the lobby of the mansion and walked to Shizuoka Station, where we hopped on a yellow-and-green bus bound for Kenritsu Hospital.
Ishikawa was on the second floor, in a room with white walls, a white floor and white sheets. Everything was white, which made his bleached hair fit right in. The only splash of color was the purple ring around his eye, the bruises all over his face and arms.
His shoulder was plastered with wrapped bandages and his arm hung in a funny way around the bulky cloth.
He’d been staring out the window when we came in, but at the sound of our footsteps, he turned his head.
“Oi,” he said quietly. He looked so defeated, like all the strength and fight had been punched out of him.
Tomohiro held out the flowers he’d bought in the lobby; white, like the room.
“Oh. Sankyu, ” said Ishikawa, an English thank you that had been absorbed into Japanese culture. Kind of like I had.
Tomohiro set them down on a tray near Ishikawa’s bed and unwrapped them from the crinkly cellophane.
“How are you feeling?” he asked.
“Like shit,” Ishikawa said.
“Just as well,” Tomohiro said, reaching for an empty vase behind the hospital bed. “I would’ve beaten the crap out of you anyway.”
“Ha,” Ishikawa said, but the laugh spluttered out and turned into a rattling cough.
Tomohiro passed me the vase and I looked for a sink in the room where I could fill it up. I found one and walked over, while Tomohiro put his hand on Ishikawa’s shoulder as he coughed.
I felt oddly betrayed and jealous. Shouldn’t he be pissed off for the danger Ishikawa had put us in? Why were we even here?
I watched the water rise up the stalks.
But Ishikawa had taken the hit when it mattered. He’d changed his mind and tried to save us. And if he hadn’t jumped in front of that bullet— The water overflowed the vase and I twisted the tap shut.
Ishikawa had stopped coughing, and as I put the vase down by the window, he didn’t meet my eyes.
“Guess you’ll win the prefecture tournament, Yuuto,” he said after a minute.
I’m sorry, was I the only one who’d experienced the past two days?
But Tomohiro acted like this whole conversation was perfectly normal.
“I would’ve won anyway,” he smirked.
“Just look out for Takahashi,” said Ishikawa.
Tomohiro shrugged. “I don’t think he’s a problem, either.”
“Huh?”
“Broken wrist.”
Ishikawa grinned. “Busy night, huh?”
“Guess so.”
Silence, then. The hospital room was stuffy and the air was stale. I could feel the sweat filming on my skin. I wished I could run out of the room.
Just when I couldn’t stand it anymore, Tomohiro said,
“Well, I guess…”
“Yuuto,” Ishikawa said. He took a heavy, rattling breath and I thought he might start coughing again. “I didn’t— I mean, I—”
Tomohiro looked down. “Power is an ugly thing,” he said.
“Run from it while you can.” He strode toward the door and I followed behind him. I watched him reach for the door handle to slide it closed, stared at the wristband slipped over the crisscrossing of old scars, and then I knew what he meant.
They were different types of power, but Ishikawa and Tomo hiro were both trapped. And despite how much I wanted to punch Ishikawa in the gut, I started to understand why the two could be best friends, even after all this.
They were both afraid and alone, in over their heads with no way out.
And now I was going to abandon Tomohiro, too.
When Diane arrived home with her roller suitcase in tow, I was slouched on the couch flipping through Japanese game shows. I stumbled to my feet and met her in the genkan, while she bent her leg to pull off her blue pumps.
“Tadaima,” she said, surprise in her eyes. I probably looked like a raving lunatic, and it was time for the raving part.
“We need to talk,” I said.
She hesitated. “Did you read the fax?”
I nodded. Then the tears I’d been holding back started to sneak down my cheeks. I brushed them away, but Diane lunged forward and wrapped her arms around me.
And somehow her embrace felt a lot like Mom’s.
“Oh, hon,” she said, squeezing me into her navy blouse and the smells of fresh makeup. She let go then, her hands on my arms as she studied me. “But it’s good news, right?
Gramps in remission.”
“Yeah,” I said. Every inch of my body felt numb, like I was hearing her through a tunnel.
“Nan told me they cleaned out the attic for you. They’re fixing it up really nicely. They want to know when you want to book the ticket.”
“The thing is,” I said, feeling ready to explode, “I’m not sure I want to go.”
Diane hesitated, her eyes growing big and wide. Then she shook her head.
“Let me get some tea,” she said, “and we’ll talk.”
“Okay.”
She went into the bathroom first, so I poured what was left of the black-bean tea into two glasses. When she came out, I was already sitting on the couch, so she grabbed her cup and sat down on the zabuton cushion across from me.
“What’s changed?” she said, and the directness of the question hit me. I felt like guilt was oozing out of every pore in my body. I should say that I liked living with her, that I liked her curry rice and her nutty game shows. And partially it was true. I liked my life here, even if reading signs was still a bit like deciphering hieroglyphs. I liked my friends—hell, even the kendo I enjoyed. But above all that, the events of the past few days throbbed through my mind.
What’s changed?
Tomohiro. Period. That’s it.
And how stupid would that be, to throw away my life for a guy? Even if he was a gorgeous kendo star, even if his drawings were so beautiful they sent butterflies knocking around my stomach. Even if he loved me.
My whole life was ahead of me: university, career, everything. And if I stayed here, I might be choosing death. And how the hell was I supposed to tell Diane that?
And that wasn’t the only thing that had changed. I had ink inside me somehow. I was connected to the Kami. If I left now, I would never really know who I was or what I was capable of. I’d never know how far my own power might reach or why there was ink lost in my veins.
“Katie?” Diane said, and I looked at her, how her shoulders hunched over the way Mom’s always did when she worried about me. She was waiting for an answer, but I didn’t know how to give one.
What’s changed?
“I have,” I said. My mouth felt dry, but I tried to swallow anyway. “I’ve changed.”
“You don’t want to move back?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “It’s so complicated.”
“Well, let’s work it out.”
“I can’t.”
“What do you mean, you can’t?”
“I mean, I can’t just make a pros-and-cons list of my life,”
I said. “How am I supposed to know what’s the right thing to do, where I should go? Sure, Nan and Gramps will be happy if I move back, but what about my life here? We’re halfway through the Japanese semester. They don’t start the school year in September like they do in Canada. If I move back, how is that going to work? And—” And I like living with you. But I wasn’t about to admit it after all the whining I’d done about moving back. How could I have known how well Diane and I would fit together as a family?
“I’m sure the schedule can be worked out, so that’s not an issue,” said Diane. “Knowing where we’re headed in life isn’t easy for anyone. No one really knows what’s going to happen.
We just sort of keep moving forward because we have to.”
“I think it’s deeper than that,” I said.
“Deeper?”
I looked at Diane, wondering if she understood what I was saying. Give it four or five months, she’d said. “It’s been four or five months.” I belong here.
It took her a minute to get it, but when she did, the smile curled along her lips.
“Katie,” she said. “Don’t be afraid to go. It won’t make Japan any less important in your life. You can give living with Nan and Gramps four or five months, too.”
“I know,” I said. I slouched back on the couch, deep in thought.
“Katie?”
“Yeah?”
“Does this have to do with Tanaka?”
“Tanaka?” Oh. “Ew, no.”
“Are you sure this isn’t about a guy? Because staying for a guy is—”
“I know,” I said quickly. “It isn’t about a guy.”
“Take the night to think about it,” she said. “Nan is waiting to book the ticket, but give it a day, okay?”
I nodded and trudged to my room. Had she heard a word I’d said?
I wasn’t staying for a guy. But who was going to look out for him if I wasn’t here? And what about the life that had taken root here? I’d given it the time, and the plant was only starting to bud. Why should I hack it out of the ground before it had time to bloom?
And as dumb as it seemed, like a moth to a flame, I needed to know. Was the ink really trying to kill me? What if it was something else? What if I was part of something important, something that could stop the other Kami for good?
What would Mom do? God, I missed her. I could do anything, she’d told me over and over. But I needed to hear her say it again, that she believed in me.
I stared into the void in my heart, searching for her. I hugged my pillow to my chest and stared at the ceiling, but I couldn’t stop wondering if Tomohiro was safe, if the Kami
would come back to get us.
I need to know you’re safe, he’d said.
Shit. I was staying for a guy. And he wanted me to leave, because if I didn’t, terrible things were lurking around every corner.
My keitai went off in the middle of the night. I jolted awake, fear twisting up and down my spine.
“Moshi mosh?” I said, shocked to find myself speaking Japanese even half-asleep.
“Katie,” said Tomohiro’s smooth voice. I fell back onto my pillow with relief.
“God, I thought you were Jun calling to threaten me or something.”
“Sorry,” he said. He sounded pretty sheepish. “I know it’s late. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”
“Fine,” I said. “Except I can’t sleep.”
“Really?”
“Yeah,” I said. “This jerk called my keitai in the middle of the night.”
I heard him snort.
“I’ll go beat him up,” he said.
“Good.”
“Wait, why does Jun have your keitai number?”
“Never mind,” I said. “It was when he was trying to protect me from Ishikawa. It’s nothing.”
“You sure?”
“Well, maybe I’m not sure, ’cause evil Kami are so hot.”
“Hidoi na,” Tomohiro whined. “Don’t break my heart now.”
“Let me sketch him. He might be pregnant.”
“Oi, ” he said, but I could just about hear the grin on his face. “Did you talk to Diane yet?”
“Yeah.”
“And?”
“I told her I want to stay in Japan.”
“Shit, Katie.” He sounded all irritated, the way he talked at school.
“Look, it’s my life, okay? I get to make the decisions.”
“I know,” he said. “But being with me is a bad one. Look, my dad found out about the Kami contacting me. He’s talking about moving.”
“It’s fine,” said Tomohiro. “Come in. Did you have breakfast yet?”
They exchanged glances.
“What?”
“It’s almost noon,” Tanaka said. Yuki looked like she was going to burst. She kept stifling her nervous giggles.
“Well, lunch, then.” Tomohiro grinned. Somehow the color had returned to his face and he looked filled with confidence.
I really hated him.
Tomohiro pawed through the fridge and pried out various bowls and bottles. He lifted a pot onto the stove top and started mixing dashi powder into a stock.
Yuki grabbed my elbow and yanked me into the hallway.
“I can’t believe it!” she squealed in a whispered voice. “You and Yuu last night!”
“It’s not like that.”
“What’s he like?” she said. “I bet his tough thing is a facade. He’s got a gentle touch, right?”
“Yuki!”
“Okay, okay.” She giggled. “But he cooks? I never expected our kendo champ to cook. Next thing you’ll be telling me Ishikawa does creative dance.”
I listened to her babble while Tanaka chatted with Tomohiro in the kitchen. The smell of bonito fish and miso wafted from the kitchen, Yuki’s excited Japanese curling off her tongue.
Why were all these things so familiar to me now?
Did I really want to leave all this behind?
Chapter 18
After lunch, Yuki squeezed my hand and told me she and Tanaka were going for karaoke. For a minute I swore Tanaka was blushing, but the next minute he looked normal.
“I can’t,” Tomohiro said. “I have to visit a friend in the hospital.”
“I’m going, too,” I said.
“You don’t have to.”
“I know.”
We waved to Tanaka and Yuki in the lobby of the mansion and walked to Shizuoka Station, where we hopped on a yellow-and-green bus bound for Kenritsu Hospital.
Ishikawa was on the second floor, in a room with white walls, a white floor and white sheets. Everything was white, which made his bleached hair fit right in. The only splash of color was the purple ring around his eye, the bruises all over his face and arms.
His shoulder was plastered with wrapped bandages and his arm hung in a funny way around the bulky cloth.
He’d been staring out the window when we came in, but at the sound of our footsteps, he turned his head.
“Oi,” he said quietly. He looked so defeated, like all the strength and fight had been punched out of him.
Tomohiro held out the flowers he’d bought in the lobby; white, like the room.
“Oh. Sankyu, ” said Ishikawa, an English thank you that had been absorbed into Japanese culture. Kind of like I had.
Tomohiro set them down on a tray near Ishikawa’s bed and unwrapped them from the crinkly cellophane.
“How are you feeling?” he asked.
“Like shit,” Ishikawa said.
“Just as well,” Tomohiro said, reaching for an empty vase behind the hospital bed. “I would’ve beaten the crap out of you anyway.”
“Ha,” Ishikawa said, but the laugh spluttered out and turned into a rattling cough.
Tomohiro passed me the vase and I looked for a sink in the room where I could fill it up. I found one and walked over, while Tomohiro put his hand on Ishikawa’s shoulder as he coughed.
I felt oddly betrayed and jealous. Shouldn’t he be pissed off for the danger Ishikawa had put us in? Why were we even here?
I watched the water rise up the stalks.
But Ishikawa had taken the hit when it mattered. He’d changed his mind and tried to save us. And if he hadn’t jumped in front of that bullet— The water overflowed the vase and I twisted the tap shut.
Ishikawa had stopped coughing, and as I put the vase down by the window, he didn’t meet my eyes.
“Guess you’ll win the prefecture tournament, Yuuto,” he said after a minute.
I’m sorry, was I the only one who’d experienced the past two days?
But Tomohiro acted like this whole conversation was perfectly normal.
“I would’ve won anyway,” he smirked.
“Just look out for Takahashi,” said Ishikawa.
Tomohiro shrugged. “I don’t think he’s a problem, either.”
“Huh?”
“Broken wrist.”
Ishikawa grinned. “Busy night, huh?”
“Guess so.”
Silence, then. The hospital room was stuffy and the air was stale. I could feel the sweat filming on my skin. I wished I could run out of the room.
Just when I couldn’t stand it anymore, Tomohiro said,
“Well, I guess…”
“Yuuto,” Ishikawa said. He took a heavy, rattling breath and I thought he might start coughing again. “I didn’t— I mean, I—”
Tomohiro looked down. “Power is an ugly thing,” he said.
“Run from it while you can.” He strode toward the door and I followed behind him. I watched him reach for the door handle to slide it closed, stared at the wristband slipped over the crisscrossing of old scars, and then I knew what he meant.
They were different types of power, but Ishikawa and Tomo hiro were both trapped. And despite how much I wanted to punch Ishikawa in the gut, I started to understand why the two could be best friends, even after all this.
They were both afraid and alone, in over their heads with no way out.
And now I was going to abandon Tomohiro, too.
When Diane arrived home with her roller suitcase in tow, I was slouched on the couch flipping through Japanese game shows. I stumbled to my feet and met her in the genkan, while she bent her leg to pull off her blue pumps.
“Tadaima,” she said, surprise in her eyes. I probably looked like a raving lunatic, and it was time for the raving part.
“We need to talk,” I said.
She hesitated. “Did you read the fax?”
I nodded. Then the tears I’d been holding back started to sneak down my cheeks. I brushed them away, but Diane lunged forward and wrapped her arms around me.
And somehow her embrace felt a lot like Mom’s.
“Oh, hon,” she said, squeezing me into her navy blouse and the smells of fresh makeup. She let go then, her hands on my arms as she studied me. “But it’s good news, right?
Gramps in remission.”
“Yeah,” I said. Every inch of my body felt numb, like I was hearing her through a tunnel.
“Nan told me they cleaned out the attic for you. They’re fixing it up really nicely. They want to know when you want to book the ticket.”
“The thing is,” I said, feeling ready to explode, “I’m not sure I want to go.”
Diane hesitated, her eyes growing big and wide. Then she shook her head.
“Let me get some tea,” she said, “and we’ll talk.”
“Okay.”
She went into the bathroom first, so I poured what was left of the black-bean tea into two glasses. When she came out, I was already sitting on the couch, so she grabbed her cup and sat down on the zabuton cushion across from me.
“What’s changed?” she said, and the directness of the question hit me. I felt like guilt was oozing out of every pore in my body. I should say that I liked living with her, that I liked her curry rice and her nutty game shows. And partially it was true. I liked my life here, even if reading signs was still a bit like deciphering hieroglyphs. I liked my friends—hell, even the kendo I enjoyed. But above all that, the events of the past few days throbbed through my mind.
What’s changed?
Tomohiro. Period. That’s it.
And how stupid would that be, to throw away my life for a guy? Even if he was a gorgeous kendo star, even if his drawings were so beautiful they sent butterflies knocking around my stomach. Even if he loved me.
My whole life was ahead of me: university, career, everything. And if I stayed here, I might be choosing death. And how the hell was I supposed to tell Diane that?
And that wasn’t the only thing that had changed. I had ink inside me somehow. I was connected to the Kami. If I left now, I would never really know who I was or what I was capable of. I’d never know how far my own power might reach or why there was ink lost in my veins.
“Katie?” Diane said, and I looked at her, how her shoulders hunched over the way Mom’s always did when she worried about me. She was waiting for an answer, but I didn’t know how to give one.
What’s changed?
“I have,” I said. My mouth felt dry, but I tried to swallow anyway. “I’ve changed.”
“You don’t want to move back?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “It’s so complicated.”
“Well, let’s work it out.”
“I can’t.”
“What do you mean, you can’t?”
“I mean, I can’t just make a pros-and-cons list of my life,”
I said. “How am I supposed to know what’s the right thing to do, where I should go? Sure, Nan and Gramps will be happy if I move back, but what about my life here? We’re halfway through the Japanese semester. They don’t start the school year in September like they do in Canada. If I move back, how is that going to work? And—” And I like living with you. But I wasn’t about to admit it after all the whining I’d done about moving back. How could I have known how well Diane and I would fit together as a family?
“I’m sure the schedule can be worked out, so that’s not an issue,” said Diane. “Knowing where we’re headed in life isn’t easy for anyone. No one really knows what’s going to happen.
We just sort of keep moving forward because we have to.”
“I think it’s deeper than that,” I said.
“Deeper?”
I looked at Diane, wondering if she understood what I was saying. Give it four or five months, she’d said. “It’s been four or five months.” I belong here.
It took her a minute to get it, but when she did, the smile curled along her lips.
“Katie,” she said. “Don’t be afraid to go. It won’t make Japan any less important in your life. You can give living with Nan and Gramps four or five months, too.”
“I know,” I said. I slouched back on the couch, deep in thought.
“Katie?”
“Yeah?”
“Does this have to do with Tanaka?”
“Tanaka?” Oh. “Ew, no.”
“Are you sure this isn’t about a guy? Because staying for a guy is—”
“I know,” I said quickly. “It isn’t about a guy.”
“Take the night to think about it,” she said. “Nan is waiting to book the ticket, but give it a day, okay?”
I nodded and trudged to my room. Had she heard a word I’d said?
I wasn’t staying for a guy. But who was going to look out for him if I wasn’t here? And what about the life that had taken root here? I’d given it the time, and the plant was only starting to bud. Why should I hack it out of the ground before it had time to bloom?
And as dumb as it seemed, like a moth to a flame, I needed to know. Was the ink really trying to kill me? What if it was something else? What if I was part of something important, something that could stop the other Kami for good?
What would Mom do? God, I missed her. I could do anything, she’d told me over and over. But I needed to hear her say it again, that she believed in me.
I stared into the void in my heart, searching for her. I hugged my pillow to my chest and stared at the ceiling, but I couldn’t stop wondering if Tomohiro was safe, if the Kami
would come back to get us.
I need to know you’re safe, he’d said.
Shit. I was staying for a guy. And he wanted me to leave, because if I didn’t, terrible things were lurking around every corner.
My keitai went off in the middle of the night. I jolted awake, fear twisting up and down my spine.
“Moshi mosh?” I said, shocked to find myself speaking Japanese even half-asleep.
“Katie,” said Tomohiro’s smooth voice. I fell back onto my pillow with relief.
“God, I thought you were Jun calling to threaten me or something.”
“Sorry,” he said. He sounded pretty sheepish. “I know it’s late. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”
“Fine,” I said. “Except I can’t sleep.”
“Really?”
“Yeah,” I said. “This jerk called my keitai in the middle of the night.”
I heard him snort.
“I’ll go beat him up,” he said.
“Good.”
“Wait, why does Jun have your keitai number?”
“Never mind,” I said. “It was when he was trying to protect me from Ishikawa. It’s nothing.”
“You sure?”
“Well, maybe I’m not sure, ’cause evil Kami are so hot.”
“Hidoi na,” Tomohiro whined. “Don’t break my heart now.”
“Let me sketch him. He might be pregnant.”
“Oi, ” he said, but I could just about hear the grin on his face. “Did you talk to Diane yet?”
“Yeah.”
“And?”
“I told her I want to stay in Japan.”
“Shit, Katie.” He sounded all irritated, the way he talked at school.
“Look, it’s my life, okay? I get to make the decisions.”
“I know,” he said. “But being with me is a bad one. Look, my dad found out about the Kami contacting me. He’s talking about moving.”
