by Erin Johnson
She lifted a palm. “But out of the blue, they reopened as a bakery, and their sweets and breads are delicious. They’ve been very successful. Which you would think would give them enough confidence to handle another bakery opening, but I suspect they’re still haunted by that failed clothing shop.” She cleared her throat. “Admittedly, the twins weren’t happy with the council’s decision.”
Hank lifted a brow. “How unhappy?”
The councilor dragged a hand across her eyes. “I honestly thought they were just blowing off steam, but after they spoke with me to appeal the denial, they left in a huff. I heard Yori mutter something about taking things into his own hands.”
The hairs pricked on the back of my neck. That didn’t sound good.
Hank grunted. “We’re going to go have a chat with those two.”
Ms. Tomoko let out an exasperated huff as Hank unfolded his longs legs and stood. “Wait—let the council handle this.”
I grabbed Iggy’s lantern and followed suit, as did the rest of my friends. I gave Annie a hand and helped her to her feet, then looked at Hank. Judging by the dark look on his face, I doubted we’d be waiting for the council to take action.
“We’re just going to talk.” Hank bowed.
The councilor shook her head. “Don’t do anything rash. We don’t need this escalating.”
We bowed to her, then turned to show ourselves out just as her husband in his robe and glasses shuffled in with a heavy-looking tray of white ceramic tea cups, milk, and sugar.
I winced. “Sorry, but we’re just leaving.”
He let out a sigh and his shoulders slumped.
We all bowed to him as we edged past, into the hall and then out the front door. Looked like we were just making everyone’s day this morning.
13
The Oishi Bakery
The golden light of sunrise bounced off the stone pavers as we wove through the narrow streets of Kusuri.
Iggy burned brightly in his lantern, his heat warming me in the cool morning. “All right!” He seemed peppier than usual at this hour. “I always thought we’d resort to vigilante justice at some point, but I never expected Hank to be leading us.”
I frowned down at him, jogging to keep up with my boyfriend’s long strides. So many questions floated through my mind. “Why would we…. We’re not…. Who did you think would be leading us?”
Iggy cackled. “Me, obvs. But Hank looks like he’s about to murder someone, so I’m okay with this.” He beamed up at me. “I like this side of him.”
I shook my head at him, but lifted my eyes to Hank’s back. With his squared shoulders and clipped pace, worry twisted my stomach. And a little something else, I had to admit. I bit my lip. The vision of an angry Hank ready to defend me—even with vigilante justice, as Iggy had put it—was pretty hot.
We turned onto a street where a few men and women wearing light jackets in the early morning chill ducked through a glass door. I lifted a brow. We hadn’t passed anyone in the streets up till now. I glanced at the lettering painted on the big front window. “The Ohayou Diner.” Huh. Misaki and Jun had recommended it, but Jiji made such delicious breakfasts, I’d yet to try it.
The tiny place bustled with business, golden light spilling into the street as we passed. Next door to it, the buildings barely six inches apart—so narrow a gap I doubted I could squeeze through it, even turned sideways—sat the Oishi Bakery.
All the buildings along this street rose two stories tall. I glanced up at the curtained windows above. The shop owners probably lived above their businesses here.
Golden letters spelled out the bakery’s name above the big front window, dazzling with its display of tiered cakes, sweet buns, and pastel-colored mochi oozing ice cream. I grinned. I mean, I knew these were our competitors and possibly saboteurs, but their front window was charming—and everything looked delicious.
A lush basket of flowers hung beside the door, and a crescent moon-shaped window decorated the rounded shop door. I frowned. I could not see two people who owned such an adorable shop being the ones behind the threats and destruction at our new house.
Hank, apparently, didn’t share my thoughts. He reached the bakery first, flung the door open, and stomped inside. I followed him, with Sam, Maple, and the others trailing behind. Unlike the crowded diner next door, the warm bakery stood empty at this early hour, aside from the few wooden tables and chairs at the front. Hank marched past them, and I followed, gaping as I took in the cute space. Though narrow, the tall ceilings lent it an open feeling. We moved toward the glass display case in the back, an exposed brick wall behind the counter.
No one manned the till, so Hank slammed his hand down on the golden bell that rested atop the counter. The ring echoed through the space and some movement sounded from behind the curtain that no doubt divided the shop from the kitchen. I frowned, suddenly realizing something odd.
As delectable as all the pastries in the window and behind the case looked, the place had very little smell. I sniffed. I would have expected it to be filled with heavenly scents, especially given the early hour. The twins had to be busy baking back there. Back in Bijou Mer, we had always risen early and the kitchen had been scented with cinnamon, sugar, and baking bread.
Hank’s shoulders heaved as we waited, fuming. I placed a hand lightly on his arm. “Hey. Let’s try the nice route first, hm?”
He glanced at me, thought about it, and then let out a heavy sigh. He stepped back from the counter so that I could stand in front of him. “You’re probably right. We don’t know for sure yet that these people were involved.”
I grinned, happy that he’d listened to reason. “Exactly.” I winked. “Talk first, pummel later.”
That got a little smile out of him, though his eyes stayed hard and wary.
“Aw.” Iggy groaned. “What happened to vigilante justice Hank?”
He chuckled, a deep sound. “He’s on pause.”
Wiley and Maple perused the glass front case and Annie plopped down in one of the chairs, fanning herself. “I’m too old to be running around town at ungoddessly hours.”
Sam bent over and pressed his nose to the glass, smudging it. “Those are Kenta’s favorites,” he murmured, his shoulders slumped.
What was going on between those two? I’d forgotten to ask in all the excitement of remodeling the house and getting death threats. I frowned and turned to him. “Sam, are you and—”
I was cut off when a man pushed through the curtain from the back area, flinging it aside. His identical twin followed, chin similarly held high. They came up to the counter and narrowed their eyes at us through their matching wire-frame, 70s-style glasses. They wore their black, wavy hair shaggy, a swoop of bangs dipping over one eye, and their thick, peaked brows lent them a somewhat mischievous look.
The one who’d entered first snatched the golden bell Hank had hit and slowly slid it back, eyes narrowed on me. “Can we help you?”
14
Escalation Station
Hank sniffed—I could practically feel him bristle behind me. I glanced back at him with a smile and raised brows. Nice approach first, remember? His shoulders dropped and he gave me a nod.
I turned back to the brothers. “Hi. I’m Imogen, this is Hank”—I hiked up the lantern—“and Iggy.” I turned to my left. “And that’s Wiley, Maple, Sam, and—”
“Not going to remember all this.” The one who’d snatched the bell folded his arms. His twin, who stood just a bit behind him, sneered.
I shoved down the flush of annoyance that rose up in me and plastered on a smile. “Right, well, we wanted to come by and introduce ourselves. We’re bakers also, and we’re fixing up that old run-down house to open our own bakery.” I watched their faces to see if mentioning the house would get a reaction out of them.
They stilled, then turned to each other and snickered. “Good luck,” the one in front muttered.
I swallowed, tamping down my anger. “As you’re the only other bakery
in town, we wanted to come by.” I extended my hand, reaching across the counter. “Like I said, I’m Imogen. It’s nice to meet you.”
“Is it?”
I shot a look at Iggy, then smiled up at the man in front of me, my hand still outstretched. Was he seriously going to leave me hanging?
The guy rolled his dark, beady eyes at my hand. “I’m Yori. This is my brother, Yoshi.” He thumbed over his shoulder.
“Twin brother,” Yoshi added with a sniff.
“No!” Iggy mock gasped.
I flashed my eyes at him. At least we’d gotten their names, though as I looked at the two I wasn’t sure I’d be able to tell them apart. They both wore their hair parted on the same side, had identical glasses, and wore holey T-shirts with unbuttoned, stained flannels over the top. I pressed my lips together. Ms. Tomoko hadn’t been kidding about the lack of fashion sense. I frowned. Though the bakery was adorable and impeccably clean.
It was hard to believe these two jerks owned it. I noticed that Yoshi, the one who stood behind on the left, had a scar through one brow. I nodded to myself. All right, at least I could tell them apart now.
I cleared my throat, casting around for a topic of conversation that wouldn’t lead to Hank lunging over the counter and throttling them. Not that he’d ever throttled anyone before. But if he didn’t, I might. I gestured toward the glass case filled with beautiful pastries. “Your baked goods look delicious.”
Yori sniffed. “They are.”
Yoshi sniffed. “Yeah.”
“Good one,” Iggy muttered.
I plastered on a smile. “Could I get a couple of those—er—” I leaned down to read the tiny lettering on the label beside it.
Yori glanced back toward his brother. “She doesn’t even know what it is.”
Yoshi scoffed.
I clenched my hands into fists. We do not throttle people. I repeated the mantra to myself until I could somewhat calmly say, “I’ll take two of the dorayaki.”
Yori jerked his head and Yoshi jumped to attention. He slid the backside of the case open and reached in. Snow flurries swirled around inside the case, and I suddenly noticed a tiny man made of frosting. He emerged from a sugar cube igloo and shook his fist at Yori until he closed the case. I grinned. Magic was so cute sometimes.
My grin faded as Yori unceremoniously dumped the pastries on a napkin and pushed them at me. He’d used his bare hands. And they had dirt under the nails. I scrunched up my nose. How could two such sloppy, rude guys run such an impeccable bakery? I reached out to take treats, but Yori lurched forward and yanked the pastries back. “Around here, we pay for things before eating them.” His words dripped with sarcasm.
Hank lurched forward and I threw an arm out against his chest to stop him. “What do I owe you?”
He told me and I reached into my pocket to pull out the coins, but Hank beat me to it. He slammed the gold onto the counter, his hard eyes on Yori, who paled.
Wiley stood with his arms folded, feet planted wide, staring down the brothers. I broke up the dorayaki and offered some to my friends. The treats looked like golden brown pancakes that formed a sandwich with a light green custard and what I guessed to be some kind of jam, maybe cherry, inside.
Wiley shook his head. “I’m not sure I trust that not to be poisoned.”
Yori sneered at him.
Maple and Sam gathered around though and we each plucked up a piece of the pastry. “Here’s to hopefully not choking on it,” I muttered.
Maple grinned, but Sam’s eyes grew round.
“I’m kidding, buddy.” I nudged his shoulder. Probably. I placed the gooey treat in my mouth and chewed. I closed my eyes, in sugary bliss. It was so delicious, I even forgot to be mad at the brothers. “This is amazing!” I chewed more, savoring the complex mix of sweet pancake and sour cherry, rich cream and bitter… what was that? I opened my eyes and turned to Yori. “Did you use matcha in this? It’s wonderful.”
Yori’s mouth opened, then snapped shut. “Uh….” He turned to his brother, whose eyes widened.
“Uh….”
I frowned. What was going on?
Yori’s eyes narrowed and he turned to me. “Psh. Nice try. Like we’re going to give out trade secrets.”
Yoshi echoed him. “Nice try.”
Maple rolled her eyes, a little custard dotting her lip. “For sand’s sake, we’re not here to steal your ‘secrets.’”
“Then why are you here?” Yori glared at her, then me.
“Yeah. Why are you here?” Yoshi mimicked.
Hank stepped forward, towering over the twins. They shrank back away from the till. “We’re here because we heard you tried to block us from remodeling the house and opening our bakery. And now we’ve been receiving threats. Happen to know anything about that?”
Wiley folded his arms on the countertop and blinked innocently at them. “Yeah. Any reason in particular you’re feeling threatened by us?”
“Threatened? Psh.” Yori rolled his eyes, though he’d paled. “We were trying to save you the trouble of failing. There’s already a bakery in town, and Kusuri doesn’t need another.”
“Yeah,” Yoshi scoffed. “We’re that bakery. The one Kusuri already has.”
Yori shot his brother an annoyed look.
I sighed and gave the “nice” approach one last try. “Listen, it doesn’t have to be like this.” I swept a hand toward the display case. “We make completely different pastries than you do.” I grinned at Hank. “And it’s not just going to be a bakery. We hope to get it running as a school, but in the meantime we’ll probably start with workshops now and then. Maybe you could even come teach one?” I shrugged. “A rising tide floats all boats, right?”
Yori threw his head back and laughed, a weaselly, chittering sound. “Fat chance! You want us to come to your bakery and teach you how to bake?” He scoffed and turned to his brother. “They’re hopeless.”
“Ha! Hopeless!” Yoshi chittered.
I dragged a hand down my face. “We tried.”
Iggy perked up. “Vigilante time?”
Yori threw an arm around his brother’s shoulders, and Yoshi did the same. Standing there like that they almost looked like one person with two heads. One very annoying person with two even more annoying heads.
Yori, who appeared to be the ringleader of the two, sneered. “We’re not worried about you and your dumb bakery, ’cause we know”—Yori cocked a pointy brow—“that you’re never even going to open up.”
I froze. Yann, who’d been sitting beside Annie, rose to his feet.
Hank squared his shoulders and in the tense quiet growled, “Is that a threat?”
I gulped. So much for Ms. Tomoko’s plea that we not escalate things.
15
The Twins
Hank slammed a hand down on the counter, and we all jumped. He glanced back at me and the others, his expression softening. “Sorry,” he mouthed. He turned back to the twins. “How do you know we’ll never open our bakery? Because you plan to vandalize our home and scare us off?” He straightened. “Well, it’s not going to work.”
Yori snickered. “No! We don’t need to vandalize you.”
“Yeah.” Yoshi hung on his brother, his arm slung around his shoulders. “We don’t even have a van.”
Yori whipped his head to the side and hissed, “Shut up!”
Yoshi curled his lip when Yori turned away to face Hank. Were these two five years old?
Yori narrowed his beady little eyes. “We don’t have to do anything at all. Because everyone knows your house is haunted.”
The candles that glowed in the wall sconces around the bakery flickered and dimmed. Goose bumps prickled my skin, and I gulped. “That was just a coincidence… right?” I squeaked.
Iggy stared back at me with wide eyes.
Hank glared at him. “I don’t believe that. Our house isn’t haunted.”
“I don’t either.” I lifted my chin. “Someone, some live person, scrawled those w
ords in paint. Not a ghost.”
“Yeah,” Iggy chimed in. “Everyone knows ghosts use blood.”
Worry creased the space between Maple’s brows as she wrung her hands. “It was red….”
I shot Iggy a “now you’ve got Maple worried” look. He cackled.
“You did it.” Hank pointed a long finger at Yori. “And I’m going to prove it.”
I folded my arms. I had to admit, I agreed. We didn’t have proof, but I couldn’t imagine anyone else hateful or immature enough to scare and threaten us like that.
Yori sneered. “Good luck! We’ve got alibis.” The brothers snickered.
I was pretty sure I didn’t want to know, but they proceeded to tell us anyway.
“We were at the Spotted Owl till after midnight and then we took some ladies home.” Yori and Yoshi fist bumped.
Maple crinkled her nose in disgust.
“Real ladies, or the blow-up kind?” Iggy asked.
“Real ladies!” Yoshi spouted.
Yori shot him a look, then smugly turned to Hank. “They’ll back us up.” He let out a low, lecherous chuckle. “And I’m sure Emi and Haru would too. They heard us all. Night. Long!” He thrust his hips with each word, then they high-fived each other.
“Emi and who?” Wiley eyed the brothers with his lip curled back, nose scrunched.
Yori scoffed. “You don’t know anything, do you?”
Yoshi scoffed.
Yori jerked his head to the left. “Emi and Haru? They run the diner?” He rolled his eyes. “Our buildings are so close we basically live together. You can hear everything.”
My stomach turned a little in sympathy for Emi and Haru.
Yori picked his teeth with his tongue and glanced at his brother, then scanned our group. “Ha. You really don’t know who they are, do you?”
I was out of patience. I shrugged and shook my head.
Yori leaned across the counter, a gleeful smirk lighting up his face. “Emi and Haru used to live in your ‘new house.’” His grin widened, revealing more yellow teeth. “They had to move out because of the ghost.”