Rain

by Amanda Sun

  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?”

&nb
sp; 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?

  “Where did she go?” Jun asked Ikeda, but she shook her head.

  “I lost her,” she said. “I wanted to make sure you were okay, so I didn’t follow her.”

  I raced my fingers over the buttons, trying to think what to say.

  Tomo and I broke up. Don’t send the photo.

  It was true, sort of. I needed to talk to him first. If he saw this photo in the state he was in now...

  “I have to get to Nihondaira,” I said. “Now.”

  Jun nodded. “Let me drive you. Bike’s out front.”

  “I’ll come, too,” Ikeda said, but Jun shook his head.

  “We’re fine,” Jun said. “Stay here in case Hasegawa-sensei comes looking for me. Say I had to get new strings for the cello. Anything.”

  “Sensei’s not going to come looking for you,” Ikeda said, reaching for Jun’s arm. “What are you talking about?”

  Jun flinched away from her touch; he meant it to be subtle, but I saw it. I saw the way Ikeda’s face fell.

  “Just stay here,” Jun said. “Katie, let’s go.” His fingers wrapped around my wrist and tugged me forward. I looked back as he pulled me toward the auditorium doors. I saw the hurt on Ikeda’s face. I saw her hands curl into fists as she looked down at the carpet.

  Jun and I hurried toward his motorbike, while my phone buzzed with another text.

  Liar. You’re still with Takahashi. You took Tomo from me. Now I’ll take him from you.

  “Shit,” I said, straddling the bike as Jun passed me a helmet. “She’s going to send Tomo the photo.”

  “He could lose his mind to the ink if she drops that on him now,” Jun said. “Hurry.”

  I nodded, tugging the helmet strap too tight. It pinched my skin as Jun revved the bike to life.

  I should never have listened to Tomo and stayed away. I should have been with him in Nihondaira from the beginning.

  I had to make things right now.

  I hoped I wasn’t too late.

  I clung to Jun’s waist as we sped up Nihondaira Mountain. It felt strange and awkward to hold him after what had happened, but I tried to ignore it. I had to reach Tomo before it was too late. I’d made a mess of things.

  The sky melted into grays and shadows as we ascended the mountain.

  “What’s up with the sky?” I shouted into the wind. It had been sunny this morning—why the sudden gathering of clouds?

  “It’s Yuu,” Jun said. “Remember the storm he pulled up with the dragon? He’s causing some kind of weird weather up here.”

  What was he drawing? What was the ink drawing on him?

  Jun pulled into the deserted parking lot by the ropeway to Kunozan. It was empty up here, cold and silent.

  I got off the bike and yanked the helmet off my head, placing it in Jun’s waiting hands. “I’ll take it from here.”

  “You’re joking, right?” He pulled off his helmet and his black-and-blond hair flopped out to the sides. “What if he got the picture text? He’s already in bad shape from what you told me. If he’s going to destroy himself, there’s no way I’m going to stand by and let him take you with him.”

  I hesitated. That’s what he’d almost done, wasn’t it? With the shinai in kendo practice and the words on the chalkboard. She must die. Did it really mean me? Could the ink really kill someone?

  “Jun,” I said quietly. “Remember when you asked Tomo to kill Hanchi? On paper?”

  He stared at me, his eyes cold and his head tilted in confusion, like he couldn’t believe I was talking about this.

  My throat felt too dry. “Can he really do it? Can a Kami really kill someone like that?”

  “They can,” Jun said calmly, and my heart dropped to my stomach. “Most Kami can’t. But some...yes.”

  “How do you know?” I said. “Did the Yakuza ask your dad to...to kill someone?”

  Jun looked annoyed, his face flushed. “It doesn’t matter how I know. It matters that the Yakuza don’t ever get their hands on someone like Oyaji again.”

  The term he used for his dad...it was tough and a little unkind. He should’ve said otousan or chichi. It was subtle and probably nothing, but it made me feel weird.

  “Jun, what did they make your dad do? I have to know what a Kami is capable of.”

  He shook his head. “You don’t understand. My dad screwed around with the Yakuza and got burned. I won’t let Yuu hurt you, okay? That’s all you need to know. Go help him before he self-destructs.”

  He was right. I couldn’t waste more time on this.

  “Okay,” I said and took off down the curved road toward the clearing and the giant bonsai tree.

  The clouds were so thick they blotted out all sunlight. It was like a solar eclipse up here, and I stumbled over my feet in the dark as I ran. Thunder rumbled in the distance.

  I reached the clearing, but it was pitch-dark. Only the ghostly glow of Mount Fuji’s snowcap in the distance gleamed with light.

  “Tomo?” I called, my voice wavering. I swallowed and tried again. “Tomo?” He didn’t answer. I walked toward the tree to see if he was sitting there.

  He wasn’t, but his black notebook lay among the roots. Its covers bulged with a stack of torn pages inside. The cold autumn wind twisted my hair in front of my face and I tucked it behind my ears. The jagged edges of pages poked out at odd angles. He’d done a whole collection of drawings—why tear the pages and then stuff them back into the notebook?

  Come to think of it, he’d made excuses about these torn sketches before. He hadn’t shown them to me. He’d been irritated when I asked to see them and shoved them deep into his bag while he changed the subject.

  Jun had listed the signs of losing control to me on the phone. Blacking out, worse nightmares, over-the-top anxiety—unexplained sketches.

  I pinched the edge of the cover with my fingers and pulled it open to the loose pages.

  I gasped.

  It was me. He’d sketched me.

  Some were on notebook paper, tiny sketch pads or napkins, one on genkoyoushi grid paper. Not always the same pose, but all had the same terrifying look that filled me with dread. He’d drawn me in a long kimono with phoenixes and hundreds of flowers sketched onto the fabric. In some of the drawings I was holding a giant shield or something with weird designs, like a gold disc that reached from the ground to my waist. My hands rested on the top of it, the long kimono sleeves draped over it almost touching the ground.

  Each of the drawings was unfinished, a final line missing that joined my ear to my chin or the waist of the kimono to the ground.

  The cold wind gusted again, and the kimono in the drawing spread to either side, billowing like a cloak around the sketch of me. The wind scattered the stack of drawings and they tumbled through the field in every direction.

  “Shit!” I yelled, racing after them. I caught a few, but they swirled every way; I couldn’t catch them all. One lodged in the branches of the tree high above.

  “Katie?” Tomo said, and then I saw him at the
edge of the clearing. He held one of the escaped drawings and he stared at me in surprise. Trails of ink had dried on his arms, but his face and hands were washed clean, probably from the nearby pool.

  “Tomo, the drawings!” I said. The wind slowed and the papers floated down to the soft grasses. Their corners tugged in the breeze.

  “You opened my sketchbook?”

  Shiori’s threat was momentarily gone as I stared at the drawings I’d managed to catch. At least Tomo was talking coherently. Maybe he hadn’t seen the picture of Jun and me yet. And this was a much more serious problem. I didn’t know why, but every nerve in my body pulsed. Run, they said. Run like hell.

  “What are these?” I managed, the drawings crinkling as my hands shook.

  He didn’t answer me.

  “Tell me! What the hell are these?”

  “Amaterasu,” he said.

  “BS,” I said. “These are drawings of me.”

  He said softly, “I know.”

  Me as Amaterasu. My blood turned to ice. Thunder rumbled in the distance.

  Tomo walked toward me, stooping as he went to pick up the scattered drawings. “For a month I’ve been waking up with a pen in my hand and a new sketch in front of me. The nightmares that went with them were horrible. I’ve never drawn things like that in my sleep before. I’ve had ink splattered on the walls or dripping on the floor, but never a finished drawing.”

  “They’re not finished,” I said. “One line’s missing in each of them.”

  “I know, and thank god.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” I shouted.

  “I didn’t want to freak you out, okay?” he snapped back.

  “Well I’m freaked out!”

  “That makes two of us.”

  “What do they mean?”

  “I don’t know,” Tomo said.