I reached for her hand, but it was limp. She was staring toward the pond and I followed her gaze.
Okaasan stood on the small bridge over the pond.
Like an exhaled breath, the energy drained out of my body. I felt like a wrung-out dishrag. I wanted to cry, from anger, exhaustion, relief.
Okaasan didn’t move. She stared at us, an odd expression on her face and a look in her eyes I’d never seen before. I don’t know how long we stayed that way, frozen in time, but eventually my eyes dropped and I felt my chin quiver.
Shoko let go of my hand. Okaasan was walking toward us. Shoko dropped to the ground and stood in front of me. Her hand moved toward the hilt of her wakizashi.
Okaasan looked Shoko up and down. “You won’t be using that here, young one.” Her voice was like ice.
“Misako-san.” Shoko didn’t bow. “This is an honor.”
My eyes moved from one to the other, and then I glanced up at the house. Grandpa and my dad stood side by side, staring at us from the back door. They both looked tired and angry. Mr. Barrymore was behind them, his face expressionless.
“You’ve scared the hell out of us!” Grandpa bellowed as he strode through the garden toward me. “You think you can hide from me?”
My chin rose. “Did you do this because I opened your safe?”
“So it was you!” His face was already red with anger.
I jumped down to face him. “I’m not that easy to kill.”
“Junya?” It was Okaasan.
I kept my eyes locked on Grandpa’s. “His men have been chasing me most of the night.” I pointed a finger at him. “I heard them say they had orders to kill me and they damn near did!”
“What?!”
My voice choked with emotion as I whispered, “Tell me you didn’t do this.”
Grandpa looked like I’d punched him square in the chest. It was like watching a mountain crumble. The man I respected shrank before my eyes, just as he had in my dream.
“What … what are you talking about?” He turned to Mr. Barrymore. “What’s he talking about?”
Mr. Barrymore stepped into the garden, not standing as straight as usual. “I have no idea sir, but”—he took a deep breath—“almost a dozen of my guys were injured tonight—seriously wounded—with edged weapons.” He turned to look at me. “One had his arm severed and nearly bled to death. Another is still missing.”
Okaasan looked like she was going to faint.
Grandpa looked back at me. “Did you do that?”
“It was self-defense.”
“Defense against what?” Mr. Barrymore yelled.
I took an involuntary step back. “They tried to kidnap me!” I yelled. “They beat up Mack, they fired a Taser at me, then they shot at me!” I took another step backward as I glared at Grandpa. “Why would you do that?!”
His mouth dropped open. “You think I ordered you killed because you opened my safe?” Grandpa turned to Mr. Barrymore. “What do you know about this?”
“Nothing!” Mr. Barrymore yelled. “You’ve hired so many new employees I can’t keep track of them all!”
“That’s unacceptable,” Grandpa said through clenched teeth.
Barrymore glared back. “I was hired to lead a professional protection team, not field an army of mercenaries.”
I thought Grandpa might explode, but he didn’t. He’d finally noticed Shoko.
“Who … who are you?” he stammered.
“I am Shoko, sir,” she said with a low bow. “I am visiting. Your grandson has been most kind to me.”
“Visiting?” His face drained of its color. “Did you … did you help James tonight?”
She nodded. “Those men meant to kill him. It was I who cut them down.”
Mr. Barrymore’s mouth dropped open. “You?”
I looked back and forth between Okaasan and Shoko. I needed to get to the bottom of all this, but suddenly my exhaustion caught up with me.
I turned to Grandpa. “I want you to go.” My words came out in a hoarse whisper, but with force.
And to my surprise, he left.
I trailed after them to the front door. When it closed behind them, I heard voices in the garden and I walked back outside.
“So … Shoko,” Okaasan said in Japanese, her arms folded on her chest. “You are far from home. Why?”
Shoko faced Okaasan, her chin lifted. “I have my duty, Misako-san. Please excuse me, but this is not your affair.”
“Please excuse me, but it’s a mother’s place to worry. Junya hasn’t been himself since he met you.”
“I will take the blame for awakening him. That he does not understand his heritage is your responsibility.”
Okaasan’s eyes widened. “There was no need … He’s a boy.”
“It is true that no one could have predicted this.” Shoko looked at the ground. I felt anger rising in her. When she finally looked at Okaasan, her eyes were filled with fury. “The Elders do not know what to make of him and the gods have not made their will known. The outcome of this situation is … unpredictable.”
Okaasan looked confused. “Then why did the Elders choose you to handle this?”
“Because I am not like you,” Shoko said. “I will not forsake my duty.”
“You know nothing,” Okaasan whispered.
“I know what is before my eyes.”
I stepped between them and faced Shoko. “Stop it … please.” I turned to Okaasan. “If it weren’t for her, I’d be dead.”
“I will see this through, Misako-san,” Shoko said. “You no longer have the blessing of the gods. Do not get in my way,” she said as she sank to her knees.
“Shoko, wait!” I ran toward her as her palm hit the ground.
My clock read 7:35 when I opened my eyes. I had no idea whether it was morning or evening. As soon as Shoko had left, I went straight to my room, collapsed onto the bed, and fell into a dreamless sleep. Now I was having trouble waking up, as if I’d taken too much cough medicine.
The house was quiet, although I could hear Tama purring at the foot of my bed. I didn’t move at first, but slowly the events of the past few days rolled through my head like a banner unfurled.
I reached up to touch my head, where I found a bump on my forehead, a big one. My arms and shoulders ached, and my knuckles were bright red and swollen.
I might have stayed in bed all day if my bladder hadn’t been about to burst. When I came back from the bathroom, Tama was lying outside the door, her back against the sunlit glass. I bent to pat her, but I saw something that made me stop dead. Two suitcases stood by the front door—Okaasan’s.
Panic began to rise. “Okaasan!”
I looked for her in the kitchen, her bedroom and the living room. I finally spotted her in the dojo, going through her sword kata with more intensity than usual. I made my way across the yard. She watched me come, her katana pointed at the tatami.
I glared at her. “I saw your suitcases.” I was struggling with so many conflicting emotions. “Are you leaving?”
“We’re leaving,” she said. “Mr. Barrymore called this morning. You’re right. Those were your grandpa’s men, but they weren’t acting on his orders. Both he and Mr. Barrymore have no idea what happened out there.”
“You really believe that?”
She nodded. “And until they find out, you’re not safe here.”
“So we’re just going to run away?”
“You want answers and I need some, too. We’re going to Izumo.”
CHAPTER
21
We flew to Vancouver and then transferred to a Japan Airlines Boeing 747 for the long flight to Narita Airport, outside Tokyo. As the jet circled over snowcapped mountains north of the city and began to climb out over the Pacific, I couldn’t help but feel I was leaving all that I knew behind.
We sat next to each other in first class. Our seats were like cocoons, offering immense privacy and luxury but little opportunity for conversation. That was fine by me, since
I didn’t feel like talking, and Okaasan had transformed her seat into a bed as soon as we reached cruising altitude. She slept through most of the flight while I zoned out with one movie after another.
The immigration hall at Narita Airport was huge but squat, the ceiling oddly low for its width. It felt as confining as a concrete bunker and was about as attractive. The single line marked for foreigners was long, winding back and forth between black ropes, but Okaasan headed straight for the booths reserved for Japanese citizens—their lines were short and clearing quickly. When she presented Japanese passports for both of us, I looked at her in surprise. I had no idea I even had one.
The immigration agent in the booth looked tired, lost in the boredom of his mundane routine. But as he looked at our passports, his energy changed. He looked up at us.
“Is there a problem?” Okaasan asked.
“There is an irregularity with your passport.”
“I’m sure everything’s fine,” Okaasan said. Her tone was polite but I sensed a trace of alarm.
The agent passed our passports to an older man who’d walked over, a textbook bureaucrat if I ever saw one. Dressed in an ill-fitting dark blue suit, white socks showing beneath his pants, his face was red and swollen, his head shiny and balding. He reeked of cigarettes and coffee—a walking cardiac event waiting to happen.
He held up one passport—mine, I assumed—and stared at it and then at me, his dark eyes flicking back and forth several times. When he was satisfied, he studied Okaasan’s passport, but when his eyes rose, his face turned an even deeper shade of red.
I turned to look at her and felt my jaw go slack. The way she stared into the man’s eyes made me feel like blushing, too.
“There’s no problem,” she said, her voice silky smooth. “I’m sure it’s a computer glitch.”
The supervisor didn’t budge, but the agent cleared his throat.
“Sir, the computer indicates an irregularity with her identity.”
The supervisor snapped out of his trance and glared at the agent. “Then do something about it,” he yelled. “You’re no better than a photocopier, spewing useless information. Do whatever is necessary to correct this problem.” He turned back to Okaasan. “These people are Japanese citizens.”
“Of course.” Okaasan continued to stare at the man. “I want to leave now.”
The supervisor handed us our passports.
“Thank you, sir.” Okaasan bowed low to the supervisor. “You are a fine leader,” she cooed. “I will be sending compliments to your superiors.”
The supervisor blushed deeper as he returned the bow. “Please accept my apologies,” he said, still bowing. “Welcome back to Japan.”
Okaasan turned to me and tugged my arm. “Let’s go.”
We cleared customs without further incident and strode through the terminal past rows of identical-looking young women who smiled and bowed and waved their white-gloved hands at us. It wasn’t until we were on the bus, speeding along an expressway on the edge of Tokyo toward Haneda Airport, that she finally spoke.
“I don’t know what that was about,” she whispered in English. The bus was half-full, and most passengers had dozed off the minute we left the airport. “I guess I need to be more careful about these things.”
“What’d you do back there? You looked … different.”
She smiled at me. “Sometimes, if you believe something strongly enough, you can convince others of your point of view. Of course, being a woman is advantageous.”
“You’re freaking me out.”
“I merely made a suggestion. Bureaucrats are easier than most people are. Their minds are weak from the monotony and mediocrity of their lives.”
“That’s mean.”
A mischievous smile crossed her face. “It depends what your intentions are.”
I shook my head. “Unbelievable.”
She smiled again and turned back around in her seat.
I looked out the window and considered what she’d said. Was it that easy to change people’s minds? But, hadn’t I done the same thing to Grandpa’s driver and to the guard on the intercom?
As we sped through Tokyo, Okaasan slept with her head against the window, but sleep wouldn’t come to me, exhausted as I was. Train tracks, overpasses, tunnels and bridges intertwined with the expressway, coming and going, as random as spaghetti on a plate. Tokyo went on forever, as far as I could see, an endless sea of grey concrete mirrored by a layer of gray haze in the sky that spread all the way to the hazy mountains far in the distance.
When we reached Haneda Airport, I was in an exhausted daze, but Okaasan was bright and perky. While we stood in line at the All Nippon Airways check-in counter for the next leg of our trip, Okaasan gave me our tickets and passports.
“You do it this time, in case there’s still a problem,” she whispered in English. “You’ve proven you can manipulate people. Make sure we get through here.”
I sighed, too tired to argue. I studied the clerks, wondering which one would be the easiest to manipulate, but they all looked the same. All were young women, about the same age, with the same hairstyle, the same makeup and the same uniform, like pretty robots in a row. Even their smiles were identical—rehearsed, mechanical and insincere. One of them motioned to me.
“Here you go.” I gave the girl my best smile as I handed over our tickets and passports. I studied her face as she stared at her computer screen.
“I like your scarf,” I said. “It’s very nice on you.” I wasn’t lying—it did look good.
She looked up at me, surprised. A smile came to her lips, along with a touch of pink to her cheeks. “They make us wear these,” she whispered. “But thank you.”
I smiled back and felt my cheeks redden as well. But when her eyebrows came together and her fingers paused over the keyboard, Okaasan elbowed me from behind. And when the clerk glanced over her shoulder toward the office, Okaasan tried to push past me.
“Window seats would be awesome,” I said to the clerk.
She turned back to me and cocked her head and smiled.
“Actually, I’m upgrading you both to business class.” Then her voice dropped to a whisper. “I was just checking to see if my boss was looking.”
When she passed me the boarding passes, our hands touched and we both froze—our eyes locked for what felt like an eternity. When I finally took the passes from her, she looked shaken. I felt pretty shaken myself.
“Don’t give up, Kiyoko,” I said. “You deserve better than him, and this. You can do it.”
Her mouth dropped open, and as I pulled Okaasan away, I felt her gaping after me until her boss tapped her shoulder and called the next passenger.
We’d barely buckled into our business-class seats for the one-hour flight across Japan before Okaasan started grilling me.
“Why did you say that?”
I patted the arm of the chair. “Nice seats, eh?”
She began to form a reply but instead grabbed the armrests as the pilot released the brakes and the jet’s engines roared to full power. We banked over Tokyo and circled to the west.
“You’re not taking this seriously,” she said when we leveled out of the steep climb.
I glanced at her. “I think I’m taking all of this rather well, actually.”
Okaasan accepted two cups of tea from the stewardess and handed one to me. I took a sip and let out a yelp. It was like molten lava and I sucked in a dozen fast breaths to cool my tongue.
“Did you do something to her?”
“Not like you did to that supervisor,” I said. “I’m sure he’s still fantasizing about you, by the way.”
“I just asked you to—”
I banged the teacup down and fought the sudden anger that surged inside me. “Did you feeling anything from that clerk, anything at all?”
Her face stiffened. “Don’t you look at me like that,” she said. “I was distracted—”
“There was nothing on her computer. She gave us these
seats on her own.”
“But still—”
“She had toast for breakfast with strawberry jam. She thinks her boyfriend isn’t interested in her anymore and her parents wished they had a son instead of a useless girl who couldn’t even finish business school. And two days ago, she stood at a train station and imagined herself jumping in front of the express.” I paused for a moment to catch my breath and lower my voice. “That was the day she was offered a front-desk job at a resort hotel in the Maldives, but she’s not brave enough to go.”
Okaasan’s hand went to her mouth.
I turned toward the window, overcome with emotion.
CHAPTER
22
Miho-Yonago Airport, which is not far from Matsue City, was the exact opposite of Tokyo. Our flight was the only commercial jet at the airport, and the terminal was no larger than your average elementary school. But there was a long row of military aircraft parked along the runway, marked with the red circle of the Japanese Self-Defense Force. I asked the stewardess about it.
“Right over there is North Korea,” she said, pointing past the mountains. “We won’t start any wars, but we’re well-equipped to defend ourselves.”
We drove to Matsue City in a small taxi, a boxy black sedan with white fabric seat covers that matched the driver’s white gloves. I sat in the back with Okaasan and watched the scenery go by. I hadn’t known they drove on the left here. The buildings, the cars, the people—nothing was like I’d imagined.
After a quick meal in Matsue, we dragged our luggage along the narrow streets for three blocks to Matsue Onsen Station, which I thought was a weird name because onsen means “hot springs.” Our destination was Izumo-taisha, a small town on the Japan Sea, and Okaasan decided to take the Ichibata Line. It was a small local line, owned by the Ichibata Department Store Company, and it had only one route: Matsue to Izumo.
Okaasan bought our tickets at the machine, but we still had twenty minutes until the next train left. I hunted around for empty seats in the small, crowded terminal. I found two, but when I turned around she was on her way back outside, looking pleased. By the time I got outside, I couldn’t see her anywhere and I started to panic.
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