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 decided to stay,” I said. “I couldn’t do it—I couldn’t get on the plane.”
Tomo’s eyes turned dark. He crouched and buried his head in his hands, his fingers splaying through his hair.
“Kuso! What if something happens to you?”
I took a deep breath. “It’s not your choice,” I said as gently as I could. “I need to stay. I influence the ink, remember? There’s got to be a way we can get this under control. Maybe somehow I can make it better instead of worse.”
“What are you going to do if the Yakuza get involved again? Or the Kami?”
“Look, I thought about it, okay? But there are people I care about here, Tomo. Diane, Yuki...and you. Do you think I’ll be safe even on the other side of the world if things blow up here? And how can I just live a normal life over there knowing the Yakuza and Kami are trying to recruit you? It’s my choice.”
“And what if that choice is selfish?” he said.
My eyes widened—that was a low blow. “You’re calling me selfish for wanting to stay in Japan?”
He hesitated, staring at the procession of lanterns down the cross street. A shrill flute played a haunting melody in a minor key, some of the notes lost in the noise of the festival as it carried on without us.
“Not you,” he said in a quiet voice. “Me. Choosing to be with you, no matter the consequences. What choice do I have? I’m a Kami. Anything I choose will hurt others. I have no choices.”
This wasn’t going at all how I’d envisioned. “That’s not true,” I said, my voice wavering. I was not going to cry in front of him, but already my sight was starting to blur. I held on with everything I could. “Faito, remember? Fight. You don’t have to do this alone, Tomo.”
He heard the tremble in my voice. He rose slowly to his feet, his eyes deep and lovely and melting everything else away.
“Katie-chan,” he whispered. I stood with my arms folded, biting my lip to keep the tears from welling over.
And then his arms were around me, my face buried in the warmth of his shoulder. His heart beat rapidly under my cheek, his breath labored as he clung to me as if in a storm.
“Hontou ka?” he said. “You’re really here?”
“I’m here,” I whispered.
He stepped back, tilting my face up to his, and kissed me as though he thought I might break or disappear. Like I was a ghost, a dream. I closed my eyes, drifting on the moment. His warmth, his touch, the smell of his vanilla hair gel. Everything the same as I’d remembered.
“Tomo-kun!” shouted Shiori, and the moment ended. We stepped back as she walked toward us, her new goldfish swimming round and round the plastic bag as it swayed in her hand. I didn’t like to hear her call him Tomo-kun, especially knowing Myu had never been allowed to call him such a close name. He’d held her at a distance and made her call him by his last name, Yuu. Was Shiori really only a friend?
But that’s stupid of me, right?
“Shiori,” Tomohiro said. “Katie’s staying in Japan.”
She slowed, a puzzled frown curling onto her lips. The frown vanished as soon as I noticed it, but I was sure it had been there. “You’re not going back?” She smiled. “I’m glad! I was so sad to not even meet you after we talked on the phone that time.” She squeezed my hand, and my insecurity evaporated. She really means it, I thought. She is really clueless about the awkwardness between us.
“You two talked on the phone?” Tomohiro asked.
“The time you decided to be an idiot,” she laughed. Shiori pointed her finger at him, poking him in the chest. I didn’t like it, but I pushed the feeling down. It was petty and dumb.
“Oi,” he stuttered, annoyed.
Shiori smiled. “Katie, are you hungry? We could get some yakitori before the fireworks start.”
“Oh, um...”
“Fried chicken,” she said in English. “It’s fried chicken.” As if that’s what had made me stumble over my words.
“Shiori,” Tomohiro said. The seriousness of his voice made me shiver a little.
“Hmm, Tomo-kun?”
“She knows what yakitori is. And I’ve just discovered my girlfriend is staying in Shizuoka, permanently. Do you think maybe we could...you know, meet up in a bit?” The words hit me like a wall. Did he actually just ask that?
“Oh...oh, no problem. I’ll get something to eat and meet you after, okay?”
“Are you sure?” Tomo said. “I just...” Shiori tried to smile and nod, but I could see the hurt on her face.
“Shiori,” I said, reaching my hand out. “It’s fine. You can stay with us.”
She waved it away and shook her head. “No, no, it’s okay.” Her voice was way too cheerful. There was no way it was okay. “I’ll catch up in a bit. This baby is always hungry.” She circled her stomach with her fingers, smiling too widely. Then she turned, and she was gone.
Living in Japan meant reading between the lines, in this case even more than when Yuki wanted time with Tanaka. No one ever said what they meant. I wasn’t sure how mad Shiori was, but she definitely wasn’t happy.
Tomo reached for my shoulders, wrapping his arms around them from behind, but I sidestepped his embrace.
“That was totally rude, Tomo.”
“I know,” he said. “I know. It was too much. I’ll make it up to her. But I just want to be with you right now. I need to be with you.” He leaned in, and this kiss wasn’t fragile at all. His lips pressed against mine sent my heart racing and heat prickling up my arms. He pulled back, his eyes gleaming. “You look cute in that yukata.”
I felt my cheeks go hot. “It’s Yuki’s.”
“I didn’t want to come here with Shiori, Katie. She showed up at my house the same time my dad came back from Kyoto. He pretty much ordered me to take her.”
“Please, like you wouldn’t have taken her anyway.” He would’ve, too. He was that kind of friend. But I was glad he wanted to explain. Things were the same between us, and Shiori hadn’t replaced me. “It’s not like you looked bored catching goldfish,” I joked.
He grinned, the happiness on his face so rare that I was flooded with the desire to always make him smile like that. “No one grows out of festivals.”
“So you’re childish, is what you’re saying.”
“Oi,” he protested, but his eyes lit up with amusement. “Come on.” He squeezed my hand. “Fireworks start soon, and I know a great spot.” He took off running and dragged me along for a couple paces until my feet started working. I let him pull me around the side streets, Tomo laughing when we almost crashed into some serious-looking lantern carriers on their way to the shrine. It was a nice change—running, but not for our lives. I hoped the Yakuza had given up if they’d stopped calling Tomo. I hoped things could be normal for us someday.
We rounded another corner, where a cast-iron bridge loomed over the Abe River. There wasn’t much in the way of a river—even in the darkness I could see the large banks of gravel with pockets of water where it had once run deeply. The early moonlight gleamed off the pools like a trail of pale white lanterns. Tomohiro pushed his way through the crowds near the metal stairs down to the rocky beach and grabbed a spot against the railing.
“Well?”
“Beautiful,” I breathed, looking out at the kaleidoscope of lights glinting around us. Lanterns in a rainbow of colors hung from the railings and rooftops, and the opposite shore gleamed with matching strands of lights. On the gravel banks, groups of kids lit small fireworks that sparked and fizzed with golden hues. The humidity of the air and the close-pressing crowds weren’t so bad here by the freshness of the river—police had been stationed along the street to make sure things stayed orderly, though I doubted it would be a problem. And the sky was wrapped in clouds, waiting for the fireworks to light the darkness above us.
“Too muddy on the beach, but you’ll get a great view up here. Do you want a drink?”
“I’m okay.” I could just drink in the feeling of being there with him.
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 decided to stay,” I said. “I couldn’t do it—I couldn’t get on the plane.”
Tomo’s eyes turned dark. He crouched and buried his head in his hands, his fingers splaying through his hair.
“Kuso! What if something happens to you?”
I took a deep breath. “It’s not your choice,” I said as gently as I could. “I need to stay. I influence the ink, remember? There’s got to be a way we can get this under control. Maybe somehow I can make it better instead of worse.”
“What are you going to do if the Yakuza get involved again? Or the Kami?”
“Look, I thought about it, okay? But there are people I care about here, Tomo. Diane, Yuki...and you. Do you think I’ll be safe even on the other side of the world if things blow up here? And how can I just live a normal life over there knowing the Yakuza and Kami are trying to recruit you? It’s my choice.”
“And what if that choice is selfish?” he said.
My eyes widened—that was a low blow. “You’re calling me selfish for wanting to stay in Japan?”
He hesitated, staring at the procession of lanterns down the cross street. A shrill flute played a haunting melody in a minor key, some of the notes lost in the noise of the festival as it carried on without us.
“Not you,” he said in a quiet voice. “Me. Choosing to be with you, no matter the consequences. What choice do I have? I’m a Kami. Anything I choose will hurt others. I have no choices.”
This wasn’t going at all how I’d envisioned. “That’s not true,” I said, my voice wavering. I was not going to cry in front of him, but already my sight was starting to blur. I held on with everything I could. “Faito, remember? Fight. You don’t have to do this alone, Tomo.”
He heard the tremble in my voice. He rose slowly to his feet, his eyes deep and lovely and melting everything else away.
“Katie-chan,” he whispered. I stood with my arms folded, biting my lip to keep the tears from welling over.
And then his arms were around me, my face buried in the warmth of his shoulder. His heart beat rapidly under my cheek, his breath labored as he clung to me as if in a storm.
“Hontou ka?” he said. “You’re really here?”
“I’m here,” I whispered.
He stepped back, tilting my face up to his, and kissed me as though he thought I might break or disappear. Like I was a ghost, a dream. I closed my eyes, drifting on the moment. His warmth, his touch, the smell of his vanilla hair gel. Everything the same as I’d remembered.
“Tomo-kun!” shouted Shiori, and the moment ended. We stepped back as she walked toward us, her new goldfish swimming round and round the plastic bag as it swayed in her hand. I didn’t like to hear her call him Tomo-kun, especially knowing Myu had never been allowed to call him such a close name. He’d held her at a distance and made her call him by his last name, Yuu. Was Shiori really only a friend?
But that’s stupid of me, right?
“Shiori,” Tomohiro said. “Katie’s staying in Japan.”
She slowed, a puzzled frown curling onto her lips. The frown vanished as soon as I noticed it, but I was sure it had been there. “You’re not going back?” She smiled. “I’m glad! I was so sad to not even meet you after we talked on the phone that time.” She squeezed my hand, and my insecurity evaporated. She really means it, I thought. She is really clueless about the awkwardness between us.
“You two talked on the phone?” Tomohiro asked.
“The time you decided to be an idiot,” she laughed. Shiori pointed her finger at him, poking him in the chest. I didn’t like it, but I pushed the feeling down. It was petty and dumb.
“Oi,” he stuttered, annoyed.
Shiori smiled. “Katie, are you hungry? We could get some yakitori before the fireworks start.”
“Oh, um...”
“Fried chicken,” she said in English. “It’s fried chicken.” As if that’s what had made me stumble over my words.
“Shiori,” Tomohiro said. The seriousness of his voice made me shiver a little.
“Hmm, Tomo-kun?”
“She knows what yakitori is. And I’ve just discovered my girlfriend is staying in Shizuoka, permanently. Do you think maybe we could...you know, meet up in a bit?” The words hit me like a wall. Did he actually just ask that?
“Oh...oh, no problem. I’ll get something to eat and meet you after, okay?”
“Are you sure?” Tomo said. “I just...” Shiori tried to smile and nod, but I could see the hurt on her face.
“Shiori,” I said, reaching my hand out. “It’s fine. You can stay with us.”
She waved it away and shook her head. “No, no, it’s okay.” Her voice was way too cheerful. There was no way it was okay. “I’ll catch up in a bit. This baby is always hungry.” She circled her stomach with her fingers, smiling too widely. Then she turned, and she was gone.
Living in Japan meant reading between the lines, in this case even more than when Yuki wanted time with Tanaka. No one ever said what they meant. I wasn’t sure how mad Shiori was, but she definitely wasn’t happy.
Tomo reached for my shoulders, wrapping his arms around them from behind, but I sidestepped his embrace.
“That was totally rude, Tomo.”
“I know,” he said. “I know. It was too much. I’ll make it up to her. But I just want to be with you right now. I need to be with you.” He leaned in, and this kiss wasn’t fragile at all. His lips pressed against mine sent my heart racing and heat prickling up my arms. He pulled back, his eyes gleaming. “You look cute in that yukata.”
I felt my cheeks go hot. “It’s Yuki’s.”
“I didn’t want to come here with Shiori, Katie. She showed up at my house the same time my dad came back from Kyoto. He pretty much ordered me to take her.”
“Please, like you wouldn’t have taken her anyway.” He would’ve, too. He was that kind of friend. But I was glad he wanted to explain. Things were the same between us, and Shiori hadn’t replaced me. “It’s not like you looked bored catching goldfish,” I joked.
He grinned, the happiness on his face so rare that I was flooded with the desire to always make him smile like that. “No one grows out of festivals.”
“So you’re childish, is what you’re saying.”
“Oi,” he protested, but his eyes lit up with amusement. “Come on.” He squeezed my hand. “Fireworks start soon, and I know a great spot.” He took off running and dragged me along for a couple paces until my feet started working. I let him pull me around the side streets, Tomo laughing when we almost crashed into some serious-looking lantern carriers on their way to the shrine. It was a nice change—running, but not for our lives. I hoped the Yakuza had given up if they’d stopped calling Tomo. I hoped things could be normal for us someday.
We rounded another corner, where a cast-iron bridge loomed over the Abe River. There wasn’t much in the way of a river—even in the darkness I could see the large banks of gravel with pockets of water where it had once run deeply. The early moonlight gleamed off the pools like a trail of pale white lanterns. Tomohiro pushed his way through the crowds near the metal stairs down to the rocky beach and grabbed a spot against the railing.
“Well?”
“Beautiful,” I breathed, looking out at the kaleidoscope of lights glinting around us. Lanterns in a rainbow of colors hung from the railings and rooftops, and the opposite shore gleamed with matching strands of lights. On the gravel banks, groups of kids lit small fireworks that sparked and fizzed with golden hues. The humidity of the air and the close-pressing crowds weren’t so bad here by the freshness of the river—police had been stationed along the street to make sure things stayed orderly, though I doubted it would be a problem. And the sky was wrapped in clouds, waiting for the fireworks to light the darkness above us.
“Too muddy on the beach, but you’ll get a great view up here. Do you want a drink?”
“I’m okay.” I could just drink in the feeling of being there with him.
