Please don’t let my world drop.
And then I recognized one of them, the girl I’d met a few times in the courtyard of the school. She caught sight of me, too, as I shyly pulled away from the side of the building.
“Hana,” I said, but my voice was too quiet for her to hear me. She made some excuse to her friend and jogged over, her hair pulled back by a white terry-cloth headband that was too tight for her head.
“Katie,” she said in English. “Everything okay?”
“Not really. Do you know what class Jun is in? I need to talk to him.”
She looked over her shoulder at the group of girls, who were pretending to play tennis while eavesdropping and whispering about me. “You could get in a lot of trouble for being here during class hours.”
“Believe me, I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t important.”
She hesitated a minute. “I think he’s in Hasegawa’s class,” she said, “but I’m not sure. But you’re in luck—we’ve been given a free period this morning to work on our demos for the upcoming school festival.”
Right—the music he’d been practicing with Ikeda. It was hard to imagine he had a normal school life. It was hard to remember any of us having a normal life.
“You remember the music room?” she said, and I nodded. “Go one door farther, and you’ll find the auditorium. I bet they’re practicing in there.”
“Thank you,” I said.
“Just try not to let anyone see you and your friend, okay? And don’t tell them I helped you.”
What friend, I wondered? She must mean Jun. “No problem,” I said and she smiled, raising her racket behind her head, her other hand gripped around the tennis ball.
“You could be really good for him, you know?” she said. “He just hasn’t been the same since his dad— Anyway. See you later.”
“Oh, we’re not—” I said, but she’d already turned back to her tennis practice. I turned and sidled along the building, trying to look as inconspicuous as a blonde gaijin in a different school uniform can look sneaking around a wall. How long ago had Jun’s dad died? Did everyone know what had happened except me? I thought about what Jun had said at the police station, how he was recognized wherever he went. Had journalists like my mom dug at his life story and published in the newspapers? I wished I’d thought to search him on the internet the way I’d searched Tomo. I wondered what I’d find.
I eased through the genkan and down the maze of hallways toward the music room. Whenever I came to a classroom, I ducked under the row of windows and crawled. I felt like a moron, but a stupid thrill ran through me anyway. I felt like I belonged in one of those police dramas Jun liked as my elbows skimmed the cold vinyl floors of the school.
I thought of Tomo in the wide-open space of Nihondaira, the sky above him. It had looked dark on the way over from Suntaba, like it was going to rain. Was he sitting beneath the giant bonsai tree waiting for me? I crawled faster.
I reached the last classroom and hurried down the hallway to the music room. I went one past to the auditorium, which had multiple doors for entering. I approached the closest and pulled the cold metal handle.
The door opened to darkness and warm, musty air. It smelled stale and slightly metallic, like gum and spit, like old sweat on fabric and carpets that needed replacing. I walked soundlessly between the rows of seats. The floor sloped down to the stage in front of me, where three soft spotlights lit up the stage just past a glow. My eyes adjusted, and then I saw him.
Jun sat in a black chair in the middle of the glowing lights. He wore his white dress shirt and navy pants, his blazer crumpled over the side of the stage with his book bag leaning against it. There was a strip of black against his wrist where he wore the studded bracelet that covered some of his Kami scars. As he moved under the spotlights, the spikes around his wrist and the earring in his ear glinted like some sort of broken Morse code I didn’t understand.
He held his cello upright and the bow spanned the instrument, poised the way he held his shinai before a match started. I looked for Ikeda and a black piano to materialize in the shadows of the stage, but she wasn’t there. Jun and I were alone in the darkness, in the thick air heavy with silence.
He drew the bow across the cello.
The richness of the wood vibrated through the air, the sound so deep I could feel it in my heart. The panic I’d arrived in retreated to the back of my mind for a moment. His life was so composed and peaceful next to the one I was living. Jun was a calm lake; Tomo was a waterfall. And I was the water, swept every which way, unable to shape myself into what I wanted.
The tone of the cello lifted through the auditorium. The notes were quick, always returning to a deep constant sound in between the higher melody. The tone was mournful and joyful at the same time, bittersweet doom with a note of hope in it. Beethoven, maybe? No...I knew this piece. Mom had listened to it before when she was writing a piece on a local cello player who’d joined the New York Philharmonic.
Bach. That was it. One of his cello suites. The deeper notes resonated in my rib cage. It was beautiful, but sad. It sounded like everything could just fall apart.
I walked toward the stage, and then a glint of gold in the balcony caught my eye. I looked up, and my eyes widened.
Ribbons of ink danced in the air, fluttering like slow-motion streamers on castle turrets. They shimmered with a rainbow sheen of oil, rippling with each note Jun sounded from the cello. They draped around the room like scarves, twirling and wafting on the air. When they touched each other, little puffs of gold dust sparkled down like dull stars.
I’d never seen the ink do something like this. And Jun wasn’t even drawing. It was like when Tomo had said the ink was using him as its canvas. Jun was the canvas now, and the ink was painting beauty around him.
The Bach suite came to an end, and Jun started into the next one, his eyes closed. But he blinked them open as his fingers trailed up the strings, and then he saw me there, watching him.
The notes of the cello stopped. The silence closed in around me.
“Katie,” he said, and the ribbons melted into the air, nothing left but a golden dust falling from the sky like smoke from a firework.
“Jun,” I said, feeling exposed all of a sudden. The ink on the chalkboards came back to me, Tomo’s awful cries of anguish as the taps poured ink into the trough.
Jun frowned, seeing the look on my face. “Doushita?” he said, angling the cello away from his body. He lay the instrument down beside his chair. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s Tomohiro,” I said, and the oddness of using his full name wasn’t lost on my ears. Just like I’d tried to appease Tomo by calling Jun by his last name, now I was trying to smooth things over with Jun by distancing myself from Tomo. Just to be polite, of course. That was all there was to it.
“Did something happen to him?” he asked. He moved from his chair toward me and then sat on the stage, his legs dangling over the side and his fingers curled around the edge. If he reached out his foot he could easily tap it against my elbow.
“At school,” I said. “When we got to class, there were ink messages written on all the chalkboards. Huge kanji, from the floor to the ceiling. It was awful. They all said things about death and betrayal, that there was no escape.”
“Che,” Jun swore, reaching to rub his earring between his fingers. “Everyone saw it?”
“They think it’s a prank.”
“Where is he now?”
“Nihondaira. I thought he’d be safe there.”
Jun nodded as he watched me. “Would you like me to drive you there?”
“Oh.” I hadn’t even thought he’d offer. Yes. “I can’t yet. I promised him I’d stay away until he texted me it was safe. What if I make it worse?”
Jun was silent, which didn’t surprise me. He’d been saying that since the beginning, that I would make Tomo lose control until he wasn’t himself anymore. Until the Kami desires took over.
Oh god. It was happening, wasn’t it? This was the moment he’d warned me about. My pulse raced in my ears. Tomo was being taken over by the ink. Would he look at me and see nothing, no recognition of who I was? Would he...would he hurt me?
The tears flooded my eyes before I could stop them. It wasn’t the kind of cry I wanted to have in front of anyone, let alone Jun. It was a cry that was ugly and strangled. I couldn’t stop myself as the sob racked my body. I tried to hold the next one in, but that only made it bubble out in an awkward sound.
“Katie,” Jun said, and he pushed himself off the stage with his palms. He rushed toward me, his footsteps soft against the plush carpet. His arms wrapped around me and the warmth of him enveloped me.
The sob choked in my throat from the surprise of it. It felt strange; his body curved differently against me than Tomo’s did, just enough for me to think, This isn’t Tomo. It’s someone else. A dumb thought, maybe, but it’s what my brain mustered in the moment.
Jun’s arms draped across my back, his chin curved around my neck. He spoke quietly, his mouth right beside my ear.
“All these tears,” he said. “All these tears Yuu has caused you.” His arms were strong but gentle, the lick of blond at his ear distracting and too bright as it pressed against my cheek.
His low voice was warm against my skin. “I wouldn’t make you cry, Katie.”
He moved his head back, his melted eyes looking into mine. I could barely see him, the tears lingering in my eyes as I looked on in stunned silence.
Then he pressed his soft lips against mine.
Warmth and guilt collided in a jolt that sent me reeling. My heart pounded in my chest. A tear that had rolled down my cheek pressed against his cheek from the closeness of us. He smelled like lemons and yuzu fruit, like ink and rosin. The combination made me feel just a little ill, but even worse—I kind of liked it.
I had to stop the kiss. Even if Tomo and I had broken up, which I wasn’t completely sure was the case, I knew this was wrong. Feeling this way was wrong. But as I stepped back, Jun stepped forward, and our lips stayed touching. His arms moved from my back until they were draped lazily over my shoulders, his hands clasped behind me. I tried to muster the strength to pull away from him again.
It was wrong to be tempted by something like this. Tomo needed me. Even if we couldn’t be together, even if he’d told me to run the other way... I mean, Jun was a Kami, right? He’d only cause me the same trouble.
Damn it, why haven’t I pulled away yet? It was like we were both lost, like we couldn’t remember what was real. Some kind of strange dream.
I tried to step back again and my keitai fell from my pocket. The little bell on the charm Tomo had given me jingled as it hit the floor.
Jun pulled away from me at the sound, resting his forehead against mine.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I shouldn’t have done that.”
“It’s okay,” I said and then realized that was a stupid thing to say.
Standing here near the spotlights blotted the rest of the auditorium into darkness. Jun had messed up my hair when he’d hugged me. He smoothed it out and tucked it behind my ear, the cool tips of his spiked bracelet grazing against the skin.
“It’s not,” he said. “I’m not the kind of guy who goes after someone’s girlfriend. Please don’t think that. God, I’m sorry. I just— Suki da kara.” It’s because I like you, he said, the guilt heavy in his words.
He didn’t say anything for a moment, and then I realized he’d confessed his feelings. What was I supposed to do?
Refuse him politely. “I’m sor—”
“It’s okay,” he said, his hands dropping to his sides. “I just... It kills me to see you hurt like this, Katie. I want to be the one that protects you. Not him.” He ran a hand through his hair as he sighed.
I bent down and picked up my phone. The little bell on the charm tinkled as I shoved it back into my pocket. Oh god, Tomo. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.
“I have to go.”
“Of course,” Jun said. “Let me drive you to Nihondaira.”
“I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”
“I’ve ruined everything, haven’t I?”
“It’s not that. I just—”
My phone started to buzz just as Ikeda burst in the auditorium door.
“Jun,” she said, racing down the sloped aisle toward us. “What the hell’s going on?”
“Ikeda,” Jun said, his nose scrunching up as he said it.
I opened my keitai, wondering if it was the text from Tomo I was waiting for. I felt like crap. Kissing another guy while he was having a meltdown alone. I was the scum of the earth.
“You guys weren’t alone,” Ikeda said.
Jun tilted his head. “What are you talking about?”
My eyes went huge as I saw the text.
A photo of Jun and I kissing. It couldn’t be.
“Some pregnant girl from the girls’ school north of Suntaba,” Ikeda panted. “I recognized her uniform in the hallway. When I asked what she was doing in the auditorium, she ran.”
“Oh my god,” I said. “It was Shiori.” That’s what Hana had meant when she said you and your friend. Shiori had followed me here.
I turned my phone to show Jun the picture and the text that went with.
Tomo deserves better. Break up with him or he’ll be the next to see this photo.
Ikeda saw the photo and looked at the floor, her face flushing with color.
“Shiori’s actually blackmailing me,” I said in disbelief. Was she that desperate?
And then I recognized one of them, the girl I’d met a few times in the courtyard of the school. She caught sight of me, too, as I shyly pulled away from the side of the building.
“Hana,” I said, but my voice was too quiet for her to hear me. She made some excuse to her friend and jogged over, her hair pulled back by a white terry-cloth headband that was too tight for her head.
“Katie,” she said in English. “Everything okay?”
“Not really. Do you know what class Jun is in? I need to talk to him.”
She looked over her shoulder at the group of girls, who were pretending to play tennis while eavesdropping and whispering about me. “You could get in a lot of trouble for being here during class hours.”
“Believe me, I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t important.”
She hesitated a minute. “I think he’s in Hasegawa’s class,” she said, “but I’m not sure. But you’re in luck—we’ve been given a free period this morning to work on our demos for the upcoming school festival.”
Right—the music he’d been practicing with Ikeda. It was hard to imagine he had a normal school life. It was hard to remember any of us having a normal life.
“You remember the music room?” she said, and I nodded. “Go one door farther, and you’ll find the auditorium. I bet they’re practicing in there.”
“Thank you,” I said.
“Just try not to let anyone see you and your friend, okay? And don’t tell them I helped you.”
What friend, I wondered? She must mean Jun. “No problem,” I said and she smiled, raising her racket behind her head, her other hand gripped around the tennis ball.
“You could be really good for him, you know?” she said. “He just hasn’t been the same since his dad— Anyway. See you later.”
“Oh, we’re not—” I said, but she’d already turned back to her tennis practice. I turned and sidled along the building, trying to look as inconspicuous as a blonde gaijin in a different school uniform can look sneaking around a wall. How long ago had Jun’s dad died? Did everyone know what had happened except me? I thought about what Jun had said at the police station, how he was recognized wherever he went. Had journalists like my mom dug at his life story and published in the newspapers? I wished I’d thought to search him on the internet the way I’d searched Tomo. I wondered what I’d find.
I eased through the genkan and down the maze of hallways toward the music room. Whenever I came to a classroom, I ducked under the row of windows and crawled. I felt like a moron, but a stupid thrill ran through me anyway. I felt like I belonged in one of those police dramas Jun liked as my elbows skimmed the cold vinyl floors of the school.
I thought of Tomo in the wide-open space of Nihondaira, the sky above him. It had looked dark on the way over from Suntaba, like it was going to rain. Was he sitting beneath the giant bonsai tree waiting for me? I crawled faster.
I reached the last classroom and hurried down the hallway to the music room. I went one past to the auditorium, which had multiple doors for entering. I approached the closest and pulled the cold metal handle.
The door opened to darkness and warm, musty air. It smelled stale and slightly metallic, like gum and spit, like old sweat on fabric and carpets that needed replacing. I walked soundlessly between the rows of seats. The floor sloped down to the stage in front of me, where three soft spotlights lit up the stage just past a glow. My eyes adjusted, and then I saw him.
Jun sat in a black chair in the middle of the glowing lights. He wore his white dress shirt and navy pants, his blazer crumpled over the side of the stage with his book bag leaning against it. There was a strip of black against his wrist where he wore the studded bracelet that covered some of his Kami scars. As he moved under the spotlights, the spikes around his wrist and the earring in his ear glinted like some sort of broken Morse code I didn’t understand.
He held his cello upright and the bow spanned the instrument, poised the way he held his shinai before a match started. I looked for Ikeda and a black piano to materialize in the shadows of the stage, but she wasn’t there. Jun and I were alone in the darkness, in the thick air heavy with silence.
He drew the bow across the cello.
The richness of the wood vibrated through the air, the sound so deep I could feel it in my heart. The panic I’d arrived in retreated to the back of my mind for a moment. His life was so composed and peaceful next to the one I was living. Jun was a calm lake; Tomo was a waterfall. And I was the water, swept every which way, unable to shape myself into what I wanted.
The tone of the cello lifted through the auditorium. The notes were quick, always returning to a deep constant sound in between the higher melody. The tone was mournful and joyful at the same time, bittersweet doom with a note of hope in it. Beethoven, maybe? No...I knew this piece. Mom had listened to it before when she was writing a piece on a local cello player who’d joined the New York Philharmonic.
Bach. That was it. One of his cello suites. The deeper notes resonated in my rib cage. It was beautiful, but sad. It sounded like everything could just fall apart.
I walked toward the stage, and then a glint of gold in the balcony caught my eye. I looked up, and my eyes widened.
Ribbons of ink danced in the air, fluttering like slow-motion streamers on castle turrets. They shimmered with a rainbow sheen of oil, rippling with each note Jun sounded from the cello. They draped around the room like scarves, twirling and wafting on the air. When they touched each other, little puffs of gold dust sparkled down like dull stars.
I’d never seen the ink do something like this. And Jun wasn’t even drawing. It was like when Tomo had said the ink was using him as its canvas. Jun was the canvas now, and the ink was painting beauty around him.
The Bach suite came to an end, and Jun started into the next one, his eyes closed. But he blinked them open as his fingers trailed up the strings, and then he saw me there, watching him.
The notes of the cello stopped. The silence closed in around me.
“Katie,” he said, and the ribbons melted into the air, nothing left but a golden dust falling from the sky like smoke from a firework.
“Jun,” I said, feeling exposed all of a sudden. The ink on the chalkboards came back to me, Tomo’s awful cries of anguish as the taps poured ink into the trough.
Jun frowned, seeing the look on my face. “Doushita?” he said, angling the cello away from his body. He lay the instrument down beside his chair. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s Tomohiro,” I said, and the oddness of using his full name wasn’t lost on my ears. Just like I’d tried to appease Tomo by calling Jun by his last name, now I was trying to smooth things over with Jun by distancing myself from Tomo. Just to be polite, of course. That was all there was to it.
“Did something happen to him?” he asked. He moved from his chair toward me and then sat on the stage, his legs dangling over the side and his fingers curled around the edge. If he reached out his foot he could easily tap it against my elbow.
“At school,” I said. “When we got to class, there were ink messages written on all the chalkboards. Huge kanji, from the floor to the ceiling. It was awful. They all said things about death and betrayal, that there was no escape.”
“Che,” Jun swore, reaching to rub his earring between his fingers. “Everyone saw it?”
“They think it’s a prank.”
“Where is he now?”
“Nihondaira. I thought he’d be safe there.”
Jun nodded as he watched me. “Would you like me to drive you there?”
“Oh.” I hadn’t even thought he’d offer. Yes. “I can’t yet. I promised him I’d stay away until he texted me it was safe. What if I make it worse?”
Jun was silent, which didn’t surprise me. He’d been saying that since the beginning, that I would make Tomo lose control until he wasn’t himself anymore. Until the Kami desires took over.
Oh god. It was happening, wasn’t it? This was the moment he’d warned me about. My pulse raced in my ears. Tomo was being taken over by the ink. Would he look at me and see nothing, no recognition of who I was? Would he...would he hurt me?
The tears flooded my eyes before I could stop them. It wasn’t the kind of cry I wanted to have in front of anyone, let alone Jun. It was a cry that was ugly and strangled. I couldn’t stop myself as the sob racked my body. I tried to hold the next one in, but that only made it bubble out in an awkward sound.
“Katie,” Jun said, and he pushed himself off the stage with his palms. He rushed toward me, his footsteps soft against the plush carpet. His arms wrapped around me and the warmth of him enveloped me.
The sob choked in my throat from the surprise of it. It felt strange; his body curved differently against me than Tomo’s did, just enough for me to think, This isn’t Tomo. It’s someone else. A dumb thought, maybe, but it’s what my brain mustered in the moment.
Jun’s arms draped across my back, his chin curved around my neck. He spoke quietly, his mouth right beside my ear.
“All these tears,” he said. “All these tears Yuu has caused you.” His arms were strong but gentle, the lick of blond at his ear distracting and too bright as it pressed against my cheek.
His low voice was warm against my skin. “I wouldn’t make you cry, Katie.”
He moved his head back, his melted eyes looking into mine. I could barely see him, the tears lingering in my eyes as I looked on in stunned silence.
Then he pressed his soft lips against mine.
Warmth and guilt collided in a jolt that sent me reeling. My heart pounded in my chest. A tear that had rolled down my cheek pressed against his cheek from the closeness of us. He smelled like lemons and yuzu fruit, like ink and rosin. The combination made me feel just a little ill, but even worse—I kind of liked it.
I had to stop the kiss. Even if Tomo and I had broken up, which I wasn’t completely sure was the case, I knew this was wrong. Feeling this way was wrong. But as I stepped back, Jun stepped forward, and our lips stayed touching. His arms moved from my back until they were draped lazily over my shoulders, his hands clasped behind me. I tried to muster the strength to pull away from him again.
It was wrong to be tempted by something like this. Tomo needed me. Even if we couldn’t be together, even if he’d told me to run the other way... I mean, Jun was a Kami, right? He’d only cause me the same trouble.
Damn it, why haven’t I pulled away yet? It was like we were both lost, like we couldn’t remember what was real. Some kind of strange dream.
I tried to step back again and my keitai fell from my pocket. The little bell on the charm Tomo had given me jingled as it hit the floor.
Jun pulled away from me at the sound, resting his forehead against mine.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I shouldn’t have done that.”
“It’s okay,” I said and then realized that was a stupid thing to say.
Standing here near the spotlights blotted the rest of the auditorium into darkness. Jun had messed up my hair when he’d hugged me. He smoothed it out and tucked it behind my ear, the cool tips of his spiked bracelet grazing against the skin.
“It’s not,” he said. “I’m not the kind of guy who goes after someone’s girlfriend. Please don’t think that. God, I’m sorry. I just— Suki da kara.” It’s because I like you, he said, the guilt heavy in his words.
He didn’t say anything for a moment, and then I realized he’d confessed his feelings. What was I supposed to do?
Refuse him politely. “I’m sor—”
“It’s okay,” he said, his hands dropping to his sides. “I just... It kills me to see you hurt like this, Katie. I want to be the one that protects you. Not him.” He ran a hand through his hair as he sighed.
I bent down and picked up my phone. The little bell on the charm tinkled as I shoved it back into my pocket. Oh god, Tomo. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.
“I have to go.”
“Of course,” Jun said. “Let me drive you to Nihondaira.”
“I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”
“I’ve ruined everything, haven’t I?”
“It’s not that. I just—”
My phone started to buzz just as Ikeda burst in the auditorium door.
“Jun,” she said, racing down the sloped aisle toward us. “What the hell’s going on?”
“Ikeda,” Jun said, his nose scrunching up as he said it.
I opened my keitai, wondering if it was the text from Tomo I was waiting for. I felt like crap. Kissing another guy while he was having a meltdown alone. I was the scum of the earth.
“You guys weren’t alone,” Ikeda said.
Jun tilted his head. “What are you talking about?”
My eyes went huge as I saw the text.
A photo of Jun and I kissing. It couldn’t be.
“Some pregnant girl from the girls’ school north of Suntaba,” Ikeda panted. “I recognized her uniform in the hallway. When I asked what she was doing in the auditorium, she ran.”
“Oh my god,” I said. “It was Shiori.” That’s what Hana had meant when she said you and your friend. Shiori had followed me here.
I turned my phone to show Jun the picture and the text that went with.
Tomo deserves better. Break up with him or he’ll be the next to see this photo.
Ikeda saw the photo and looked at the floor, her face flushing with color.
“Shiori’s actually blackmailing me,” I said in disbelief. Was she that desperate?
