by Rose Haven
… And then we left, Daiki finished in Japanese. He squeezed my hand and I took comfort in the soft hum of electricity as Ichiru began pacing the room.
We will need to leave immediately, Ichiru said. Daiki’s translation was slow on that one, as if he hadn’t wanted to send the words through the link and into my mind. Ichiru made eye contact with me and asked in English: “Did they threaten Skye as well?”
“They seemed mostly confused by me,” I replied. “A human with a shifter.”
“It is not as uncommon as hunters would like to think,” Ichiru said.
I suddenly remembered that I was supposed to be in class. The lunch breaks at the Institute were usually very short, but I’d been gone way too long. I cast the thought aside; Daiki’s problems were more important than a class I would have hated anyway.
“We can’t leave, Oji-san,” Daiki said. His voice burned like the fire running through his veins. “The Ootoris should pay for what they did.”
I thought I must have heard him wrong. I tentatively pushed at the link between our minds but he didn’t respond. It was as if he’d erected a barrier between our minds. He’d completely shut down the link – I couldn’t feel anything coming from him. “Like revenge?” I asked.
“They destroyed my family,” Daiki replied. “And not just them. They’ve slaughtered hundreds of shifters!”
“Killing is a last resort,” Ichiru said firmly. “We do not kill for pleasure.”
“The best defense is a good offence,” Daiki insisted. “Are we going to sit around and wait for them to torture and kill another human – torture and kill Skye – before we decide to act? Or run away and keep living in fear?”
“Do not pretend that this is anything other than vengeance,” Ichiru said.
I watched them, my eyes darted between their angry, sad, horrified expressions, like I was watching a volleyball match. I understood where Daiki were coming from – if I’d watched my parents fall to their deaths in a blaze of fire, I would want revenge too – but I agreed with Ichiru. I remembered watching him dispatch the hunters who’d kidnapped me and feeling nothing but relief at their deaths. Ichiru had killed them to protect Daiki and me. If Daiki actively sought out the Ootoris with the intention of killing them, then that would be murder.
“I will not run away,” Daiki said. “Not this time. I can’t keep running, Oji-san, I can’t keep living like this.”
Ichiru sighed sadly. He looked almost guilty. “This is how our kind lives, Daiki,” he said. “I am sorry,”
“I won’t leave Skye,” Daiki said firmly.
I felt a blush rising in my cheeks as Ichiru’s eyes turned to me.
“I am sorry,” Ichiru repeated. “But the longer you stay, the more Skye is at risk.”
“Not if we take the fight to them!” Daiki said. “If we attack now, while they’re still planning –”
Ichiru snapped at him in Japanese, his voice burning with intensity: They have already planned. They have been hunting shifters since before you were born. You cannot outsmart them!
I can outfight them! Daiki shouted back. I’m stronger now, I don’t need you to carry me anymore!
Ichiru held up a hand, silencing Daiki as effectively as if he had cut his vocal chords.
“Enough,” Ichiru said in English. “We will not discuss this further. I am sorry, Skye,” he added, turning to me.
I couldn’t feel anything from Daiki. It made me feel almost hollow. We’d been sharing our thoughts for less than half an hour and already I felt the loss when Daiki cut the connection. How would I survive if the hunters silenced him permanently?
“We must leave,” Ichiru said. “If we do not, more death will come to us.”
“But Oji-san –”
“You brought this danger down on us,” Ichiru snapped. Daiki blinked rapidly as if to keep himself from crying. “You chose to put your own desires ahead of this family’s safety, and now we must all suffer the consequences.”
It took me a moment to realize that he’d included me when he said that all of us were suffering. Daiki spun on his heel and left the room, heading for the stairs behind the counter which led to the apartment above the restaurant.
“Daiki!” I called. Daiki!
He didn’t respond. Ichiru shook his head sadly at Daiki’s retreating back and turned to me: “I am sorry, Skye,” he said again. He kept saying that he was sorry. Maybe this life of hiding and running was as hard on him as it was on his grandson. “I know that you and Daiki have become close. If there was any other way –”
“I understand,” I told him.
He nodded, fixing me with a shrewd gaze. “Perhaps you should speak to him,” he said, giving me a significant look.
He wanted me to convince Daiki to run. The thought of Daiki and Ichiru packing up their things and leaving town left me feeling sick and lost. My only other friend had been murdered. Without Daiki’s sweet, nervous text messages, his warm touch, or his cheerful smile, how would I survive this city?
I’d known Daiki for over a week, but he was already indispensable.
Despite my feelings, or maybe because of them, I nodded to Ichiru and went up the stairs behind the counter. It occurred to me that I had never actually seen Daiki’s apartment. He’d always come over to mine.
The apartment above the restaurant was sparsely decorated, with a few pictures with Japanese calligraphy. I admired the brushwork and color schemes – the characters seemed to leap off of the page. I couldn’t understand the letters, but I felt the artist’s passion in the strokes and dashes. I followed the sound of Daiki’s pacing footsteps to a room down the hall.
I knocked on the door. “Daiki?” I called out.
There was a pause. “Come in!” he said.
I let myself into the room, which was just as sparsely decorated as the rest of the apartment. There weren’t even pictures on the walls, just a rolled up futon in the corner and a cupboard for his clothes. This was the décor of a family ready to leave at any moment.
When he saw me, he flung himself across the room and wrapped his arms around me. I held on tight, dreading the moment when we would need to let go.
“It’s not fair,” he muttered into my shoulder. I ran a hand soothingly through his hair. “I just found you.”
“You won’t lose me,” I said. “There’s email, text, Skype, the link – there are a thousand ways we can stay in touch.”
He buried his face in the crook of my neck. I pressed against the link, sending a question and an offer for comfort if only he would let me in. He didn’t.
“It’ll be okay,” I told him. “We’ll be okay.”
“He’ll take us back to Japan,” Daiki said. I chewed on my lip, glad that he couldn’t see my expression. “The Ootoris are in America, so he’ll think it’s safe to go back. He’s always wanted to.”
“Aren’t there more hunters in Japan?” I asked.
“There are hunters everywhere,” he replied. “But the Ootoris are the ones to watch out for.” His voice came out like a growl when he said their name.
“But they’re so…” I didn’t want to say ‘old’, but that’s what they were. The hunters who’d kidnapped me were young and vital. The Ootori siblings had salt and pepper hair and crow’s feet – they were probably as old as Ichiru. They were certainly older than my parents.
“And you know how a hunter gets old?” Daiki said wryly. “By killing monsters quickly and efficiently.”
“You’re not a monster,” I said.
He pulled away and pressed his forehead to mine. I felt his feverish heat seeping into my skin, his nose touching my nose, and his eyelashes against my cheeks.
“I thought I was for a long time,” he said. He was whispering like it was a secret. “A monster. I thought all humans would be afraid of me, and they kept proving me right. Then you… you wanted to paint me. Oji-san can’t really expect me to give that up.”
“I told you, you’re not giving me up.”
�
�You could come with us.”
I pulled away so that I could look in his eyes. I saw hope in them, and a little bit of excitement. “What?” I asked.
“Japan has great art schools,” he said, holding onto my waist and pulling me in so that we were chest to chest. “In Kyoto especially, but there are others. Art schools that’ll actually let you paint.”
“I –” I couldn’t wrap my head around what he was asking me. “You want me to come to Japan? I don’t speak the language,”
“I’ll teach you,” he replied excitedly.
“But –” I needed to think. There were no chairs in the room for me to sit down on. “I can’t just go to Japan, Daiki – I’ve wanted to go to the Art Institute for my whole life.”
Never mind that I wasn’t enjoying the classes, or the solitude, or the fact that I didn’t belong in New York City with its fancy hairstyles and pretentious professors. Never mind that the Art Institute wasn’t all I’d hoped that it would be. I’d fought long and hard for my parents to let me come to Manhattan and I would be damned if I let the little things keep me from following the dream I’d worked so hard for.
“Life isn’t always what you expect it to be,” Daiki said harshly.
I almost snapped back at him but the image of his parents falling from the sky and burning together stopped me. I ran my hand through his hair again, feeling him lean into my touch despite his anger, and said: “We’ll get through this, I know we will,” I said.
He kissed me then. It was a slow, burning kiss that tasted like goodbye. I took his head in both of my hands and kissed him back, hard. I poured everything I was feeling – all the hopelessness, the frustration, the sorrow – into that kiss. He met me blow for blow, gripping my waist so tightly I thought he would leave bruises. He kissed me like the world was ending. In a way, it was.
Chapter Four
I left Daiki and Ichiru to pack their bags. I’d given them my support and assured Daiki that this wouldn’t mean our relationship was over, but I couldn’t hold onto my feelings any longer. Especially after Daiki had blocked me out of the link. Even after we’d kissed and held each other, he still wouldn’t let me in. I tried not to take that personally.
“He’s hurting,” I told myself as I made the long trek back to my apartment, ignoring the fact that I had afternoon classes and a midterm coming up. I didn’t have the strength to pretend to be interested.
His offer to go to Japan with him had thrown me and I’d answered without thinking. But of course I couldn’t go to Japan… could I? Mama would throw a fit if she found out I was even considering it. The thought of being separated from Daiki made my chest hurt, but I couldn’t just pick up everything and run away with him.
I got back to my apartment and let myself inside, pausing at the half-finished portrait of Daiki in my bedroom. It showed his back and the side of his face, with his huge black wings extended. I’d filled in some of the color over the weekend and now I was trying to decide how to incorporate fire. The sight of that picture, the memory of running my hands down that back, and the knowledge that I might not get the chance to do that again for a long time, made me want to take the canvas and smash it to the ground. I didn’t. Instead, I threw myself onto the bed and let out of huff of frustration.
Rolling over, I pulled my phone out of my pocket and called Mama. It was about time I told her that I was seeing someone. I was dreading her reaction. It wouldn’t have been so bad if Daiki was white, but Mama – bless her – was a walking Texan stereotype. Daddy was just as racist but he was quieter about it.
I held the phone to my ear and listened to it ring.
“Skye Louise?” Mama said, raising her voice slightly as she always did when she answered the phone.
“Hey, Mama,”
“Bless you sweetheart, it’s so good to hear from you,” she said. “Hang on, I’m making jam. How do I put you on speaker?”
I explained and waited until the tell-tale sound of white noise told me that she’d switched me over. “How was your day?” I asked.
“Oh, well, Loretta Freeburn is pregnant again,” Mama replied. I could hear the faint swoosh and click as she stirred her pot slowly. “I don’t know how she stands so many children, but that’s Catholics for you.”
I cringed and gave her a noncommittal hum to tell her that I was paying attention. Finally, when she was done explaining how Catholics breed like rabbits, I told her: “So, I’m making friends,” Which was true before hunters had murdered the only friend I’d made, but she didn’t need to know that.
“Oh, that’s nice dear.”
“And I’m sort of seeing someone,” I added.
“Really?” she said interestedly. “That’s awful soon – you just moved to the city,”
“It’s not serious,” I lied.
“What’s his name, then?”
I took a deep breath. “Daiki Hamada,” I said.
“Oh,” There was a long pause. When she spoke again, her voice was full of forced cheer. “Well, that’s an exotic name,” she said. “Where’s that from?”
“Japan,” I said. “He’s Japanese.”
There was another pause. “I don’t suppose he’s old enough to remember Pearl Harbour?” she asked shrewdly.
“He’s too young, Mama,” I said, suppressing the urge to roll my eyes. “But I’ll bet his grandfather is old enough to remember Hiroshima.”
“Hmm,” I could picture her pursing her lips and leaning against the counter. “Well, I hope you’re careful. Your father might have a few things to say about this.”
I rolled over until I was on my back and pushed my hair out of my eyes. “I think Daddy would get along with him,” I said. “They’re both very… protective.”
She hummed again and changed the subject. I knew that the conversation about Daiki would come up again, and again, but at least my parents couldn’t accuse me of hiding him from them. It would make the fact that I was hiding other things from them much easier.
While she jabbered about her knitting circle, I pulled my laptop out of my purse and pulled up an internet browser. I typed in ‘Japanese art schools’, because it couldn’t hurt to look, right? The first result was a school in Kyoto, the place Daiki had mentioned. It seemed to put a lot of emphasis on different art styles – but not so that they could be used in marketing or design. This was art for art’s sake. Painting, in particular, seemed to be pretty important. I felt my heart quicken as I read through their program.
“… and then Coraline dropped the cake, can you imagine? Made a real mess of the kitchen…”
I scrolled up to the tab that said ‘International exchange’ and, after hesitating only briefly, I clicked on it. The first thing that came up was a picture of Kyoto. It didn’t make my heart sing the way that pictures of New York had before I’d gotten into the Institute, but it was very beautiful. It had character. I could imagine myself living there. I read through the information and felt my eyebrows raising into my hairline. A year at this school would cost a fraction of what Mama and Daddy were paying for New York.
“… of course there’s something to be said for all-American men. Frankly I’ve never trusted foreign mechanics all that much. You can tell they don’t really care about this country…”
My phone buzzed in my ear. I pulled it away, put Mama on speaker and checked the text I’d just received. It was from Daiki. I opened it and realized almost instantly that he hadn’t written it:
Skye, this is Ichiru. Is Daiki with you?
I texted back a quick reply: no. I felt a sudden wave of dread.
“… Jackson’s cattle dogs got into Margaret’s chicken pens again. I swear that woman will shoot those dogs one of these days and then where will that family be?”
“Mama,” I said, cutting her off mid-stream. “Sorry, Mama – I just got a text from a friend. She’s locked out of her apartment. Can I call you later?”
“Of course,” she said. “Your father will be home soon. You can talk to him then.”
I heard the threat in her voice but I didn’t care at that point. I told her I loved her and hung up. Then I called Daiki’s phone.
“Skye?” Ichiru answered.
“Ichiru, is everything okay?”
“Yes, yes, yes,” he replied. I could detect a hint of panic in his voice. “Everything is okay, Skye.”
“Where’s Daiki?” I asked.
He hesitated. “I do not know,” he said finally. My heart sank and I clutched the phone harder. “Can you feel him through the link?”
I tried. I sent out a call, imagining it as a kind of radar, but I couldn’t pick up Daiki. Growling in frustration, I tried again. I felt a faint hum along the link and latched onto it, pulling my mind towards Daiki. I saw a glimpse of him before the image blurred and faded. I pushed harder. My head felt like it was being squeezed in a vice.
I gasped when the image cleared up: “He’s in Concourse,” I said, recognizing the architecture and trees. He was heading towards an abandoned theatre with a look of fierce determination on his beautiful face. I froze, holding my phone against my ear as my breath quickened and a sick feeling of terror curled low in my belly. “I think he’s going for the Ootoris.”
It was like a bucket of ice water had been thrown over me. Of course he’d gone after the Ootoris. Daiki Hamada used to patrol the neighborhood in a vigilante mask fighting muggers and saving people. He’d flown to my rescue when the hunters had taken me. Of course he would take the fight to the Ootoris. He wouldn’t be satisfied just sitting at home, waiting for the hammer to fall.
Ichiru cursed and hung up. The dial tone jolted me into action and I grabbed my purse and ran for the door. I had to get to Daiki. Those hunters would tear him apart!
I hailed a cab at the road and handed a fifty to the cabbie. “Concourse,” I said. “East 197th Street. As fast as you can,” I didn’t even say please.
I must have looked desperate because the cabbie hauled ass, tearing away from the curb and hurtling north. I kept my eye trained on the passing buildings, waiting for one I recognized, sending stop, stop, stop through the link. My desperate pleas went unanswered. Even though I could find him, I couldn’t get through to him.
