by Amanda Sun
“I did,” he said. “I should never have taken this long to tell you. What if I’d lost you?” He studied her eyes, her delicate nose, the softness of her mouth painted with shimmery pink lipstick. “There...there were times I was jealous of you, Yuki-chan.”
She rolled her eyes. “Uso,” she said. “You’re a liar.”
“It’s true. You make friends so easily. It’s not like that for me. I have to work really hard at it. And you’re way smarter than me. You scored higher than me on the Suntaba entrance exam.”
“You finally admitted it,” she teased.
“Yuki, I’m serious.” He rested his hand on her cheek. “But whenever I felt envious, I just thought how lucky I was to be your best friend. How lucky I was that you wanted to spend time with me, even if you were better than me.”
“Tan-kun,” Yuki whispered. “I never, ever thought I was better than you.”
“I know,” he said, trailing his thumb down to her lips. “And that made me love you more.” Yuki’s eyes fluttered closed as Tanaka pressed his lips to hers, as the kiss they’d been aching for finally happened. It tasted of honey and pistachio cream from the macarons, of mandarin oranges and last cookies snuck under the table.
They pulled back gently from the kiss, looking at each other as if they might vanish into a dream. “I can’t believe you’re here,” Tanaka whispered.
Yuki smiled, but the ceiling paintings caught her eye again. “I don’t really want to think about kami right now,” she said.
“I’m so sorry that happened,” Tanaka said. “Our first date and I put you in danger.”
“It’s not like we knew the zoo would be dangerous,” Yuki said. “Anyway, I felt safe with you. I knew you’d protect me.”
“Of course I would,” Tanaka said. “Although you probably could’ve protected me better. I’ve seen your tennis swing.” He attempted a laugh to lighten the conversation, looping his fingers into her hair elastic and pulling her raven hair free like a curtain around her.
“I can’t believe it’s happening here,” she said. “In Tokyo, maybe, or I guess Kobe, but Shizuoka is hardly a nest for Yakuza.”
“It’s not just in Shizuoka,” Tanaka said, running his fingers through her hair. “These Kami are cropping up all over Japan. We just have to trust the police to deal with them.”
“Kami is the wrong name for them,” Yuki said. “Kami are supposed to protect us. That’s why we go to the shrines at New Year’s and exam times and everything, right?”
Tanaka grinned. He still had the same smile he had when he was little. “Yeah,” he said. “That’s why we don’t have to worry. The real kami are protectors. And after all that bell ringing and clapping and bowing, they finally brought me you. And I promise, Yuki-chan, as long as you want me here, I’ll be here.”
Yuki draped her arm over Tanaka’s neck and pulled him toward her, resting her lips on his, pulling the warmth of him closer. I see you, every touch said. And I’m here.
Chapter Thirteen
Izanagi stumbled back to the pagoda, his spirit in shreds. He wished the boulders had struck him down, for he felt dead already.
The children weren’t on the shore. Panic grasped what was left of Izanagi’s heart.
Kunitoko stood by the ocean, beside the long blade that had killed the last of Izanami’s sons. The blade was still charred black from his fiery skin.
“Yamato,” Izanagi said, his voice tired and rough. “And the others.”
“Ameno has taken them fishing on the bridge,” Kunitoko said. “He thought it would be best.”
“You knew, then,” Izanagi said. “You knew it would happen this way.”
Kunitoko looked down at the shore, the waves calm, the water a soft blue reflection of Yamato’s painted sky. “I feared it.”
“She’s gone,” Izanagi said. “I betrayed her over and over. She deserved more.”
“That may be,” Kunitoko said. “But so did you. You lied to yourself.”
Izanagi fell to his knees, his palms pressed against the sharp grains of sand. “It was all a mistake,” he said. “Perhaps Izanami was right. We should drown the painting.”
“It isn’t for you to decide,” Kunitoko said. “Yamato and the others live here now. They will paint other things besides.”
“I’m tired,” Izanagi said, and Kunitoko nodded, turning toward the edge of the bridge. It was high in the heavens, now, and he had to walk far along the shore before he could find the beams of it reflected in the water.
Izanagi looked down at his own reflection rippling in the lapping waves. His black kimono was torn, his shoulder bare and bloody. A single maggot ran along his cheek and he plucked it off, flinging it into the ocean as far as he could manage. The ink ran down his skin like rain. He reached his hands into the water and splashed it onto his face. The cool salt of the water stung as it dripped into his cuts. He rubbed the ink off with his palms, splashing more and more water as the ocean waves stained black.
The ink swirled in the water, pooling, but Izanagi didn’t notice. He wept, heaving the water at his face, relishing the burn of the salt against his wounds.
“Why do you cry?” asked a gentle voice, and Izanagi tensed. Izanami—he’d know that voice anywhere. But how could it be? He looked up from the palms of his hands.
It wasn’t Izanami, but, oh, she looked like her, her long black hair draped down her golden kimono like silk, a red obi tied around her waist and embroidered with phoenixes. She glowed with a wonderful light, a light like the fireflies Izanami had once sent up into the sky. She beamed with innocence and happiness.
“Are you all right?” asked another voice—a man’s, but young and gentle, like Yamato. Izanagi looked to his left. The ink that had pooled in the oceans had formed another kami. His face was as innocent as the girl’s, his robes of blue and midnight. His black hair had been tied back in a tidy knot on the back of his head.
Two new kami, Izanagi thought. A new start.
He rose, looking from one to the other. “I cry because I have lost my heart. Be good to each other,” he said, his voice weary. “And do not lose your warmth.” The two looked at each other in question as Izanagi stepped away, as he lifted the long blade from the shore and followed the footsteps Kunitoko had taken to the bridge.
He watched them for a day, from the top of the bridge. He watched as they met Yamato and the others, as they explored the world. The boy, Tsukiyomi, loved the girl, that much was clear. But the girl gleamed at the idea of the world, and so as Tsukiyomi agonized over how to tell her, the girl—Amaterasu—painted the sky with Yamato and fished with Awaji, unaware of the growing and painful devotion of the boy.
It was like watching the past, watching what could have been. He longed after her the way Izanagi had longed after Izanami. But he only wished that the boy would never grow jealous and prideful, never break the balance as he had done.
Izanagi sighed and rubbed at his face, the last of the ink dripping onto the bridge.
“Why do you sigh?” asked a voice, and Izanagi turned to see another new kami, dressed in robes of white and crimson. He had a strong face, his hair messy and wild, his expression cold but clever.
Izanagi smiled to himself. Another like him—one who didn’t quite belong, yet trudged along, anyway. “My son,” he said. “I sigh, for I am alone.”
“I’m here now,” the new kami said. He attempted a sigh, as well, and the very winds trembled and swirled around the bridge. Izanagi’s smile froze on his face as he saw the delight on the new kami’s face at his power.
“Susanou,” Izanagi said. “Kami of the winds and storms.”
“Yes,” Susanou said, as though he’d always existed.
“Take this blade,” Izanagi said, and Susanou took the sword in his hands. “Use it to cleave the winds in the sky, and to fight fo
r this world. You will slay monsters with it, I know.” He looked at the ink-wrapped handle as he rolled it in his hands. “That is its true purpose.”
“The blade is crusted with ink,” Susanou said.
“That and more,” Izanagi said. He glanced down from the bridge’s edge, the motion catching Susanou’s attention.
“Why do you look down?”
“Susanou, stay up here and protect this world,” Izanagi said. “Don’t lose focus of what’s important. And don’t look down.”
Susanou nodded, but they both knew he’d break the promise.
Izanagi looked around at the skies and the seas, at the children playing in the field and at the worn pagoda, its roofs tattered and warped from the fire. Nothing looked the same; he was the stranger now, he knew. This wasn’t his painting anymore, as Kunitoko had said. He stepped toward the edge of the bridge, his foot wavering above the oceans below.
“Where are you going, Izanagi?”
“Where we all must,” he answered, his hand gripping the edge of the heavenly bridge. “Forward.”
He took another step, the warmth of the wind curling about him as he fell.
* * * * *
Glossary of Japanese Words and Phrases
Chan: Suffix used for female friends or those younger than the speaker
Chigau/chige yo: “It’s not like that” or “No.” Literally, “It’s different.”
Chotto: “Wait a minute” or “a little bit”
Doushita: “What happened?”
Ebi fry: Golden-battered fried shrimp
Genkan: The foyer or entrance of a Japanese building. Usually the floor of the genkan is lower than the rest of the building to keep shoes and outside things separate from the clean raised floor inside.
Hai: “Yes.” Also used as a filler word to show that one is listening to the speaker.
Inugami: A dog demon from Shinto tradition. Known for their uncontrollable wrath and murderous instincts.
Kendouka: A kendo participant
Kitsune: A fox or fox spirit, whose power and wisdom were reflected in the number of tails they had
Kotatsu: A heated table used in Japanese homes in the winter
Kun: Suffix generally used for male friends
Mukashi: “Once upon a time” or “Long ago”
Naginata: A traditional curved Japanese spear
Nani: “What?”
Ne: “Isn’t it?” It can also be used as “Hey” to get someone’s attention.
Ohayo: “Good morning”
Onigiri: Rice balls
Senpai: A fellow student older than the speaker
Sugoi: “Wow” or something that is awe-inspiring
Tatami: Traditional mat flooring made of woven straw
Uso: An expression of disbelief. Literally, “That’s a lie.”
Washi: A traditional style of Japanese paper
Yabai/Yabe: “This is bad” or “I’m screwed”
Youkai: A Japanese demon or monster
“The work of a master storyteller.”
—Julie Kagawa, New York Times bestselling author of The Iron Fey series
If you loved Rise, don’t miss the rest of the titles in the Paper Gods series by Amanda Sun:
Shadow (novella)
Ink
Rain
Storm
Available now in ebook format!
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ISBN-13: 9781460389836
Rise
Copyright © 2015 by Amanda Sun
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