Rain

by Amanda Sun

  Jun shifted on the bench so he faced me. Our legs were almost touching, and I could feel the warmth of him next to the cool breeze of night. He lifted his right arm slowly, twisting it so I could see the underneath of his wrist. It was hard to see in the darkness if the skin looked normal. “Here,” he said, taking my hand. His touch sent a jolt through me. He placed my fingers near his elbow and gently traced them down to his wrist. His skin was warm, his arm strong like Tomo’s from all the kendo training. My fingers ran over the rough edges of the scars.

  So he did have them.

  “Most Kami have at least a few,” he said. But there were lots of them that bumped under my fingertips. Jun had had his share of accidents. “It’s been a while,” he said. “They’re not fresh the way they are for Yuu.”

  “Oh,” I said. I pulled my hand out from under his grip. I was glad it was dark. I hoped he couldn’t see the deep pink in my cheeks. My heart sounded like it was going to beat right out of my chest.

  “But the lack of control Yuu has, the explosive power...you could be onto something. I’d never thought of it before. Susanou...” He lifted his left arm to brush away the bangs that trailed over one eye, the spikes on his black bracelet gleaming in the starlight. “The kami of storms, earthquakes and Yomi, right?”

  I nodded. “The World of Darkness. My friend’s brother said it translated to ‘Hell.’”

  “Has Yuu ever called up any of those?”

  I thought for a minute. The storm surrounding the dragon he’d drawn. The earthquakes I’d felt when I first moved to Japan. And...Hell?

  “Wait,” I said. My pulse leaped and I felt sick to my stomach. “When the Yakuza tried to take Tomohiro away, the ink made this...this giant demon-face thing. It was really freaky. I didn’t see it clearly but...it scared the hell out of Ishikawa.”

  “There’s your answer,” Jun said. “My god. He’s not a normal Kami.”

  My heart ached. He really was the demon he’d feared. It was all worse than he even realized. I felt tears blur in the corners of my eyes. “What can we do?”

  “There’s got to be a way to stabilize his power. In the meantime, the best we have is for you to stay away from him. Don’t do anything to provoke the ink.”

  I nodded. He’d started drawing again, so that would help. I’d find ways to be busy, so that he wouldn’t react too strongly to me pulling away. It was horrible, but it had to happen.

  “Katie,” Jun said, resting a hand on my shoulder. “You’re not alone in this, okay? We’re going to help him.”

  “I know,” I said. “Thank you.”

  Jun nodded. “I’ll find out what I can, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  “Katie, you look terrified. Let me take you home and you can get some rest.”

  “It’s just...it’s a lot to take in,” I said. I could barely hold back the tears. I blinked, and one streamed down my cheek.

  It was like being told to stay away from your own soul. How could I?

  “Hey,” Jun said. His fingers brushed my cheek as he wiped the tear away. “We’ll figure this out, okay?”

  I nodded, hoping I could hold the tears back until later.

  He took my fingers gently and pulled me from the bench. He rested my hand on the motorbike with his own fingers on top, lingering just a moment too long before he went back to the genkan to get his extra helmet.

  I felt so alone as I waited in the dark. Couldn’t he just hurry up so I could go home and cry my eyes out?

  When he came back, he strapped the helmet on me and I straddled the bike behind him. We sped toward Shizuoka Station together and then past. I shouted my address at him and he drove me all the way home. I held on to him the whole time, like he could help me make sense of things. The wind whipped my tears away, numbing the pain.

  On the steps of the mansion, I turned back to him. “Thanks,” I said, my voice like a ghost.

  “I’m here for you, okay?” he said. “Tomodachi kara.”

  Because we’re friends.

  “Yeah,” I said. “Tomodachi kara.”

  He grinned, and then he zoomed down the street, and there was nothing left around me but darkness.

  * * *

  “Katie, is that you?” Diane yelled from the living room. I pulled the door closed behind me and kicked off my school shoes. She appeared in the hallway, her face crumpling with concern. “Have you been crying? Your eyes are puffy.”

  “I’m okay.”

  “It’s that Yoshida boy, isn’t it?”

  “Yuu, Diane, not Yoshida. And no.”

  Diane smiled. “You’re an awful liar, Katie. Listen, I’ve had my share of boy trouble. I know.”

  The tears spilled over; I couldn’t stop them.

  “Oh, hon,” she said and pulled me into a tight hug. She smelled of strong perfume, but I didn’t even care. I held on to her, too. “What’s he done? I’ll snap him in two.”

  I pulled back and shook my head. “It’s not his fault,” I said. “It’s just not going to work.”

  Diane sighed and nodded. She kept her arm tightly around me and led me to the living room. We sat down on the edge of the ugly purple couch, but that just made me think about how Tomo and I had held on to each other that night after the Yakuza, how we’d fallen asleep on the tiny couch clutching each other. I cried harder.

  “It’ll get easier,” Diane said, patting my back. “These cultural differences...they’re not as big as they seem.”

  She didn’t know. How could she?

  “I’ll make you some tea. Would you like that?”

  “Yeah,” I sniffed.

  “And I think we had some matcha cookies left. Just a minute.” Diane disappeared into the kitchen. Fixing things with food, like always. But nothing sounded better than a hot glass of tea.

  From the hallway, my keitai went off.

  I ignored it.

  It buzzed again.

  I dragged myself to my feet, walking toward the bag and pulling the keitai out.

  Texts from Tomo, of course. The words were blurry through my tears.

  How was Sengen? Thought about you the whole time. Tomo

  My hands shook as I held the phone. God, he was so perfect. Why did he have to be a Kami? Why did it have to be like this?

  I turned the keitai off and slid it back into my bag.

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered.

  * * *

  I avoided him at school the next two days, taking on extra cleaning duties and getting Yuki to cover for me when he showed up at our classroom. “She already left,” she’d told him, when I was actually cleaning sinks in the bathroom. She said he’d swiped his bangs out of his eyes a little too hard and then left without a word. “He looked totally confused,” she’d said. “So why are we avoiding him?”

  “I just need some space,” I’d said, which she’d translated as me being annoyed that he’d gone for dinner with Shiori. I’d reminded her it was my idea, but what else did she have to hold on to? She had no clue about the real reason.

  Friday night, I received another text from him.

  Did something happen? You okay?

  I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t want to push him away. It seemed easier to just say nothing.

  I hope you can still make it to the tournament tomorrow. Or you owe me shabu shabu and a night of wild passion. You hear me? Tomo

  “You jerk,” I said aloud. It stung avoiding him like this.

  Fine, I typed back. I’ll come to the tournament. Jeez, keep your pants on, Romeo.

  A moment passed, and then my phone buzzed.

  I’m not making any promises.

  How the hell was I going to stay away? He was so lame it was cute.

  The next morning I got ready early, putting
on my new pink blouse and lacy beige skirt with my soft pink ballet flats. It wasn’t so much that I was dressing up for him. I was trying to blend in more with the other girls, and here, supercute and girlie fashion was the way to go.

  Okay, so it’s not like I didn’t hope he noticed how adorable the combo was.

  Wow, Katie. What happened to staying away?

  Great. So my resolve was going to last all of five seconds?

  I headed toward Katakou School, where the prefecture tournament would be held. The stands were already thick with crowds when I arrived, and I searched for the best possible place I could sit to watch the matches.

  I stepped down to the next aisle and just about tripped over a girl’s purse.

  “I’m so sorry!” I blurted out and the girl looked up at me. She wore a bright red dress with a lacy sweater. The skirt of her dress ruffled out like a ballet tutu but was way too short, so she’d paired it with leggings and a pair of cute sandals.

  “Shiori?” I said, her presence throwing me off. “You came to watch kendo?” She seemed too...delicate for it somehow.

  “Not kendo,” she smiled. “I came to support Tomo-kun.” Of course. I hoped she wouldn’t ask me to sit with her. It seemed so awkward.

  Instead, she said, “I wish you could sit with me, but there’s just no room here. Maybe somewhere in the back?” She said it pleasantly, like we both didn’t notice the slight it was.

  I noticed. And it was almost worse than having her ask me to sit.

  “No problem,” I said. “Um, I’ll just...”

  “Greene!” I looked down the row and saw Ishikawa, his bright white hair sticking out in the crowd like a kendo flag.

  “Excuse me,” I said, a little smug. It felt good to be invited, even if it was by Ishikawa. I sidestepped down the row and collapsed into the seat beside him. “Hey,” I said. “You were allowed to leave the house for this?”

  “No, but since when has that ever stopped me?” He wore a white dress shirt with a red tie and khaki pants. The shirt was so thin I could see the bandage patched over his shoulder and the colorful outlines of the tattoo on his arm. “I’m doing better, but I couldn’t miss this.”

  “Everything...okay?” I said. “You know, with the—”

  “The police?” he said. He waved a hand in front of him and I looked. Four cops stood on the sides of the gym, dressed in black with official white bands encircling their arms just above the elbow. “Nah. They keep questioning me, but I’m not going to talk.”

  “What are they doing here?” I panicked. They weren’t going to arrest Tomo, were they?

  “Relax,” Ishikawa said. “After today, their whole conspiracy theory will be blown to smithereens. Anyway, if Takahashi and I are here cheering for Yuuto, it won’t look suspicious for him, right? No malice, no motive.”

  “Those are big words for a rice ball,” I said, flicking him in the shoulder.

  “I’m not a rice ball, Greene. Do you know the meaning of the myoji for ‘Satoshi’? Wisdom. It’s wisdom, jackass.”

  “Uh-huh,” I said. “Do you know what irony is? Because your mom did.”

  He laughed. “You’re as bad as Yuuto.”

  “So Ju—Takahashi is here, too?”

  “Over there.” He pointed a few rows down, where Jun sat with a group of kids. They laughed and joked as they waited for the first match to start. Some of them were dressed in school uniforms, holding banners in blue and green.

  I looked past them nervously to the police. One of them, a woman constable, was talking to the referee. I hoped Ishikawa was right. I was tired of worrying about what they might find out.

  The kendouka entered the gym in a line and the crowd rose to their feet, cheering. The competitors wore full bogu, but I noticed Tomohiro right away. The way he walked, with confidence and grace. The way he held his shinai with just the right amount of tension. He looked beyond the league of any of the others. He looked like an ancient samurai.

  “Yuuto!” Ishikawa screamed, waving his arms in wild circles. “Ganbare!”

  Tomohiro looked up and saw both of us. I couldn’t see his expression through the men, but he saw us, together, cheering for him. Maybe that was enough.

  I took a deep breath. “Ganbare!” But the crowd had quieted down, and my voice rang out in the silence. Trust me to embarrass myself.

  “Aaaand now the whole gym knows you’re in love with him,” Ishikawa said. “You have quite the pair of lungs. Impressive.”

  “What about you?” I smirked. “You were as loud as me.” I’d just meant it as a gibe, but I realized what I’d said the minute the words were out.

  “Yeah, well,” Ishikawa said, his eyes soft as he stared straight ahead at the kendouka. “It’s you he heard.”

  My heart hurt a little, but I wasn’t sure why. I wanted to ask if he was okay. “Ishikawa, are you—”

  “His best friend,” Ishikawa said. “So shut up.”

  “Kendouka, in position!” the referee called.

  Tomohiro was up first, against a junior from Katakou. I could hear Jun’s voice as he called out, cheering for the boy I didn’t know. Tomohiro advanced as he shrieked a kiai. He galloped across the floor toward him and smacked the shinai toward the kote.

  “Point!” yelled the main referee as the three of them lifted their red flags.

  “Already?” I said.

  Ishikawa laughed. “Yuuto’s gonna mop the floor with that kid.”

  He wasn’t kidding. It was an easy match for Tomo. The shinai clacked together as the two circled in the arena. Tomohiro lunged, and the boy barely blocked it. But he stepped too far into the move, and Tomohiro snuck his shinai underneath for a hit to the dou.

  Next up were two girls from a school we didn’t know. And then a boy from Suntaba against a girl from Katakou. The matches went on and on, but every time Tomohiro went up, the competition had no chance. He was in perfect form, focused and quick, his attacks precise and calculated.

  I wasn’t the only one who noticed. The police muttered to each other below us.

  But they couldn’t suspect him just because he was winning, could they? That wasn’t fair. He hadn’t done anything. I mean, on purpose. We had been responsible for Jun’s fracture, but not to put him out of the tournament.

  Match after match, Tomohiro got faster, sharper, more vicious. I shook when he screamed his kiai—had he always sounded so frightening? A whistle blew as his shinai accidentally lunged toward an opponent’s leg. When had he ever got a penalty warning like that before?

  The match ended, and the crowd clapped wildly. He was heaving each breath in now, exhausted. He lifted the men from his shoulders to cool off.

  That’s when I saw his deep black eyes, the pupils large and empty.

  “Oh shit,” I said.

  “Greene,” Ishikawa said, clasping my shoulder. “Such language.”

  “Look, moron,” I said quietly. “His eyes.”

  Ishikawa breathed out. “Oh shit.”

  “Like I said. What are we going to do?”

  “That’s why he’s getting so aggressive. It’s like when he attacked you in practice.”

  Tomohiro was on his last match of the tournament now, lunging again and again. His elegant form and careful thinking were gone. He attacked viciously, without thought. It was like he wasn’t even the same person.

  “Yuuto!” Ishikawa yelled out, but it didn’t faze him. He nudged me in the arm. “Snap him out of it, Greene.”

  “Tomo-kun!” I yelled. I could feel Shiori’s eyes on me as I yelled. And then Jun turned around, startled by the sound of my voice. “Tomo-kun, stay calm. Faito!” But it was like he couldn’t hear me.

  He raced toward his opponent, turning his back to us. And then I saw that the tenugui headband wrapped around his copper h
air was dripping with black ink, trailing in raindrop lines down his back.

  Jun noticed, too. He rose to his feet, looking at me frantically.

  We couldn’t reach him. He was going to lose control right here. Some scary ink thing would explode around him and the police would arrest him, maybe worse. He was a demon, Susanou’s descendant. He was capable of anything.

  “Tomo!” I shrieked, my whole body shaking. I felt so helpless.

  Jun curled his hands into fists and turned to face the tournament. Tomohiro’s opponent was running scared now, dodging every deadly attack. The referees looked antsy, ready to call Tomo on any violation they could.

  “Yuu-san, faito!” Jun chanted, and the sound of it startled me. He said it over and over in a steady rhythm. “Yuu-san, faito!” He curled his fingers into fists, shaking them up and down in time with the chant.

  Beside me, Ishikawa joined in. Then Shiori.

  And then the whole crowd added their voices.

  Jun was trying to reach him. He was trying to break him out of it. The crowd chanted as one loud voice.

  “Yuu-san, faito! Yuu-san, faito!”

  The boy stumbled and fell backward in the arena. Tomohiro lifted his shinai into the air, the way he had with me in practice. I watched, unable to move. My heart beat in my ears, and my pulse raced.

  And then the ground started to shake, just a little. I looked at Ishikawa, alarmed.

  “Just a tremor,” he said. “Keep chanting!”

  But it wasn’t just a tremor. It was moving in time with my pulse.

  Tomohiro screamed out, his shinai throttling downward. The boy winced as it approached. The referee’s whistle started to blare in his mouth.

  “Tomo!” I shrieked.

  Tomohiro stumbled, almost falling on the boy. The whistle died off, cut short. The earthquake stopped rumbling.