by Amanda Sun
I leaned back into the fluffy seat as the train pulled away from Shizuoka.
Sorry, Diane, I thought with a guilty pang.
Tomo placed the coffee shop bag on the minitable in front of us. He opened it with a lot of crinkling, pulling out a bottled of ultrasweet iced coffee and a chocolate croissant.
“Thanks,” I said, suddenly aware of how close we sat, of how our legs pressed against each other from knee to thigh.
He nodded, scrunching the bag down flat as a plate for the croissant. “Can’t fight the ink on an empty stomach,” he said. He unscrewed the iced tea as I reached for the flaky pastry. “Oi,” he said, and my hand stopped in midair. He narrowed his eyes. “I get half of that, okay? Half.”
I rolled my eyes and stuffed the croissant in my mouth, biting off a little more than half in one go. My mouth full, I asked, “Why didn’t you buy two?”
“You did that on purpose,” he said.
“You bet I did. Don’t buy your girlfriend half a chocolate croissant.”
He grinned, and reached into his coat pocket. Another crinkly bag—another chocolate croissant.
I raised an eyebrow. “Were you testing me?”
He laughed, taking a bite out of the new croissant. “More like teasing you. You passed, by the way.”
God, he was such a jerk. “You failed.”
He just smiled away, taking another bite of his croissant.
The cities passed by as we sped toward Nagoya. I stared at all the houses as they zipped past, each one holding a family I knew nothing about. The trip to Tokyo, and now the trip to Ise, reminded me how little I knew about Japan, how little I’d seen of the rest of the country. Were things the same here as Shizuoka? Were they different?
A flock of ravens perched on the electric wires, looming over us as we rattled past. A dark reminder of Amaterasu’s messenger bird, the Yatagarasu. This was no happy vacation I was on.
Nagoya Station reminded me of Shizuoka—the same chain coffee shops and department stores connected to the station, the same platforms, but with a lot more people. As the train had pulled in, I’d seen the two huge skyscrapers that towered over the station. Office spaces, maybe? I wasn’t sure, but they were giant. I’d hoped to see Nagoya Castle from the train, too, but a look at Tomo’s determined face reminded me how serious this trip was.
We transferred to the Kintetsu Express; like a miniature version of the bullet train, it wrapped around the edge of Ise Bay, flying through stations whose kanji I couldn’t read. I wished I had another croissant to eat; this part of the trip would take a while. I pulled out the book I was in the middle of and started reading. After a while, I noticed Tomo peering over my shoulder.
I looked at him. “What?”
“Nothing,” he said. “I just want to know what the Magus does when he finds out that the boy is his enemy’s son.”
I blinked. “How long have you been reading over my shoulder?”
“Look, are you going to turn the page anytime soon?”
I rolled my eyes, but flipped the page. “Shouldn’t you be studying for entrance exams or something?”
He didn’t answer for a moment, his eyes flicking across the page. “Tsugi.”
“I’m not turning the page again,” I said. “I haven’t even read these pages yet.”
“Why not?” He shook his head, disappointment gleaming in his eyes. “You’re a really slow reader. This is English, and I’m still reading faster.”
I smacked his arm and he laughed, the warmth of it taking the fight out of me. “Are you always a jerk?”
“Pretty much.”
The stations got smaller and smaller as we curved around the bay, the water sparkling with the morning sunlight. Everything was brown and half-dead here, only another month until winter would take hold. The train tracks went from four, to two, to only a single set as we clacked along.
Finally, we pulled into the smallest station I’d ever seen, a single taxi waiting outside for visitors. I peered at it from the train window as we slowly lined up with the platform. “This is it?” I said.
Tomo pursed his lips. “Not quite the place you’d expect to have one of the treasures of Japan, hmm?”
“It’s a bit on the small side.”
Tomo leaned over me to peer out the window. The warmth of his closeness filled me with heat, the smell of him bringing memories of being in his house, cooking miso soup for breakfast. Alone, the two of us, after sleeping the night away on his couch.
We were staying overnight here, too. We didn’t know what might happen as we looked for Amaterasu’s mirror. We weren’t planning to make the four-hour trek back until the morning. I swallowed nervously as he leaned over me, as I thought about where we’d stay tonight. He wouldn’t ask me to do anything with him, would he? I mean, we were here for the mirror, not for a romantic getaway.
But the sunlight sparkled on the bay, and the autumn wind rustled what was left of the leaves on the trees, and whether I wanted to admit it or not, it was a romantic trip. We were here alone, just the two of us. Anything could happen. Everything could happen.
My throat felt dry, my wool coat itchy and too hot as we got up from our seats and shuffled toward the platform. Was he thinking about tonight, too? Had he assumed we would go that far? Yuki had insisted things were different in Japan, that there weren’t so many cultural hang-ups about it, but I wasn’t sure. Look what had happened to Shiori. She’d been abandoned at school—worse, relentlessly bullied for getting pregnant. If the consequences were such a big deal, then sex must be, too.
Oh god. I hadn’t even thought to pack cute pajamas. I’d just brought my comfy ones, fuzzy pants and a T-shirt. The shirt was even fraying along the hem.
I was lobster red now, I was sure of it. Tomo could take one look at me and know what I was thinking. I walked a step behind him, hoping he wouldn’t look back.
We slipped our train tickets into the platform gate and climbed down the stairs to where the single taxi waited. A lone bench had been propped against the station wall, I guess in case two people needed a taxi at the same time.
A man on the bench stood up, and stepped toward us, a black news cap pulled tightly over his head.
He stopped in front of us and lifted one hand up as if he was going to push Tomo. I tensed—was he going to mug us? In front of the taxi driver?
Then his other hand reached to pull the cap from his head. His white hair flopped down around his ears.
“Welcome to Ise, Yuuto.” Ishikawa grinned, making a peace sign with his free hand.
Tomo choked on his next breath. I mean, he actually choked. “Sato? What the hell are you doing here?”
Ishikawa grinned. “Keeping an eye on you lovebirds.”
Tomo’s face flushed a deep crimson. “But...how...?”
Ishikawa sighed, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I convinced Greene to bring you here, and then you texted me you were coming, remember? So I just took the earlier train.”
“Why?” was all I could manage. “Why?”
“Speechless, huh? Because I thought you might need help, that’s all. There are only two of you, you know. Jun’s got a whole army of Kami.”
“You’re not a Kami, Sato,” Tomo said, shaking his head.
“Yeah, but at least I’m in on the secret. And that’s one more person on your side.”
“Jun’s army isn’t that impressive, anyway,” I said. “He’s got, what, fifteen kids whose drawings flicker on the page? And Ikeda. I mean, she’s the most dangerous of all of them, and she’s not that tough.”
But Ishikawa shook his head. “See, this is why you two need me. You don’t even know.”
An unspoken fear unfurled in my stomach. “Know what?”
“Jun’s amassing followers who’ve read the secret signs
he’s placed in his attacks on the Yakuza,” Ishikawa said. “‘Kami Arise,’ sound familiar? And they’ve arisen.”
Panic fluttered its barbed wings against my ribs. “No.”
“The police think it’s a gang war,” Tomo said. “Some new gang called ‘Kami’ fighting with the Yakuza over turf.”
“You knew about this, too?” I said, exasperated.
He nodded. “Ishikawa told me last night.”
“They’re trying to keep it out of the news to avoid panic,” Ishikawa said. “Lucky for you guys I have connections. Now are we going to walk to the hotel or take that poor guy’s taxi?” The driver stood politely ignoring us, his white-gloved hands crisply at his sides.
“Fine,” Tomo said, and we filed into the taxi, a white lace doily draped over the backseat.
Wait. Was Ishikawa going to stay with us now? So I didn’t have to worry anymore about being alone with Tomo? I sighed, the relief washing over me—or was it total irritation? No wonder I was so conflicted. I was a total mess of emotions.
No one spoke in the car. Everything had to be secret these days, even from our taxi driver. He had silver hair and wrinkles worn into his face. What if he knew about the Kami? No, now I was just being paranoid. I took a deep breath and watched the bay sparkle outside the window.
So Jun was amassing an army of followers. Wouldn’t the police know who the Kami really were? But maybe those who knew couldn’t say. And maybe they thought it was just a gang name. None of them had the power to kill like Jun, did they? I shuddered. He was becoming a prince, just like he’d wanted to. Who wouldn’t be grateful to him for taking out criminals, for making the world safer? But he didn’t have the right. No matter what the police weren’t saying, they still saw Jun and the Kami as the enemy, so we still had some time.
We stopped at an ancient towering building that looked like something out of a samurai movie. “This place?”
Tomo nodded as he counted out yen for the driver. “It’s a ryokan.”
“That’s a Japanese-style hotel,” Ishikawa said, but really, looking at the place it was obvious that’s what it was. The entrance had automatic glass doors, but inside, the hallways were lined with rice paper doors and vaulted wooden ceilings. It was like a giant version of the Three Palace Sanctuaries where we’d seen the Magatama.
Ishikawa leaned back, resting his hands behind his head as we wandered the lobby. “Relax,” he said to me as he looked around. “I’ll get my own room.”
I flushed with heat. Should I tell him it was okay? The rooms here had to be expensive, and I was pretty sure Ishikawa didn’t get much payment for the questionable work he did. He had a baito, a part-time job, at the karaoke place Tanaka liked, but he didn’t strike me as someone who’d think ahead and save up for some kind of emergency trip like this. The train tickets alone must have cost him a lot. I was lucky, that way. Tomo hated using his dad’s money, but this time it had come in handy for us.
“It’s fine,” I blurted. I wished I hadn’t, but I had. “You can stay with us.”
Ishikawa shook his head. “I’ll get another room.”
“It’s fine,” Tomo said. He didn’t even look at us—he just kept staring at the window and rubbing the back of his neck. “We should stick together.”
“You okay, man?” Ishikawa said, stepping toward him. “You look pale.”
I realized then what the problem was. That look in his eyes—I’d seen it at the Imperial Palace.
“It’s Amaterasu’s mirror,” I said. “It’s calling to him.”
Ishikawa looked at me like I’d grown another head. “It’s what?”
I rested a hand on Tomo’s arm. He tensed under my touch, a wild look in his eyes. “Let’s go to the shrine, Tomo, okay?”
He nodded, and I led him outside into the cool morning air.
Ishikawa trailed behind us. “He’s losing control again, right? Oi, Yuuto!” He smacked his hand against Tomo’s back. “Shikari shite zo! Get ahold of yourself, okay?”
“I’m fine,” Tomo breathed. “I just need to...to get closer.”
“Wait here,” I told Ishikawa, and he nodded, watching Tomo as I returned to the hotel to confirm our stay. We had everything we needed in our backpacks, so once he bowed and passed me the room key card, I nodded and returned to Tomo and Ishikawa outside.
We followed the signs for Ise Jingu, which were pretty straightforward. It was the major reason people came to Ise, after all. One of the imperial family members even lived here to watch over the shrine. And over the mirror, I thought. It’s been kept carefully ever since Emperor Jimmu received it at the beginning of Japan’s history. What truth could we see in it that we couldn’t see in the one Tomo had sketched?
Tomo moved like a wounded animal on the hunt, lurching toward the shrine with hunger in his eyes. Ishikawa shot me a creeped-out look, but I just shook my head. He’d seen enough of Tomo’s ability that he didn’t need me to reassure him. He could suck it up and deal with it like we both had to.
Ise Jingu actually had two major shrine locations—you were supposed to visit Geku first, and then Naiku, but Tomo ignored the signs for Geku. It was Naiku that housed the mirror.
We walked through the streets of ancient-looking houses and shops, all of them worn wood and rice paper, like we’d stepped back in time. Vendors in aprons and head scarves sold souvenir crackers and plastic Magatama necklaces, steaming udon noodles and leather wallets and gleaming statues of zodiac animals. But to Tomo, it was like the city had vanished, like Ishikawa and I weren’t even there. He advanced toward the mirror, drawn by the force of the ink inside him.
The lush mountains, carpeted in reddening autumn trees, nestled against the shrine like a barrier, a wall that rose up to the clouds dotting the sky. The wind blew and the trees rustled together in a great sound, like the breath of a kami blowing through their branches, all of them dancing in unison. I’d never seen anything like it. It was easy to believe the mirror could be in a place like this. It was like the landscape of one of my dreams. Nervously, I checked the nearby hedges for inugami. Who knew what was real anymore?
The leaves on the row of bushes shook with a loud rustle, and I tensed. Oh god. Were there wolves in Ise? There could be anything. Even just thinking about inugami...maybe that was enough for Tomo to create one, or for one to escape his notebook.
A creature burst from the bushes and I ducked, covering my head and screaming.
No pain, though. No sharp jaws of teeth. Only the sound of Ishikawa laughing.
I opened my eyes slowly, daring to peek at the bushes. A chicken pecked at the gravel on the pathway, its head bobbing up and down.
“Beware the deadly chickens of Amaterasu,” Ishikawa managed between laughs. The chicken circled around us, totally indifferent to our presence.
“Um,” I said. “Why is there a chicken?”
We continued down the pathway, and I spotted another chicken near a group of trees.
Ishikawa shrugged. “Sacred chickens,” he said.
“Sacred chickens?”
“Did you prefer inugami?” Tomo said, his tone way more serious than Ishikawa. He looked grim, haunted, pale.
I shook my head. “I’ll take the chickens, thanks.”
An unpainted, square-looking torii loomed above us. And behind it, the longest wooden bridge I’d ever seen, lifting over the shallow river that lapped against the shore of the shrine.
The bridge was made of fresh light cedar that smelled musty and sweet. It arced up so steeply that I couldn’t see the end of it, only the top of the second torii that towered above the other side. The shore itself vanished into the thick forest of trees that shrouded Naiku in mystery.
“Uji Bridge,” Ishikawa said. He took out his phone and passed it to me.
I stared at the keitai in my hand. “What?”
He rolled his eyes and leaned against the leg of the torii. “Take my picture, dumbass.” He held his hand out in a peace sign.
“Are you serious?”
The posed smile dropped from his face as he gave me a mean look. “Yes. Now come on.” He plastered the fake smile back on. I sighed, pushing the button to take the photo. Ishikawa snatched the phone from me to look at the picture.
Tomo spoke, but his voice sounded strange, like it wasn’t quite his. “The bridge,” he said. I knew that other voice, and turned to look at him. His eyes were pools of vacant black, beads of sweat slicking his bangs to the sides of his forehead.
“Tomo?” I asked quietly. “Should we leave?”
He didn’t answer. “This bridge,” he said. “This is the Ama no Uki Hashi, the bridge of the kami.”
I opened my mouth to answer him, but Ishikawa was at his side faster than I was. “Chigau,” he gently corrected. “This is Uji Bridge.”
“The mirror is here,” he said, stepping forward onto the planks of the bridge.
I stared at the giant torii. “Are you going to be okay?” He’d passed out walking under one before. He stopped thoughtfully, and then went around the torii instead, squeezing himself through the narrow gap between them.
Ishikawa and I stayed beside Tomo, one of us on each side. The look on Ishikawa’s face told me he knew what I knew—that Tomo could lose control of the ink at any moment. I peeked over the side of the bridge into the river below.
Something dark was swirling in the water, the ripples spreading out in tendrils under the bridge.
I hesitated, curling both hands around the railing as I peered over.
Ink dripped from the bottom of the bridge into the water. I looked up at Tomo, and down at the water again. It dripped only where he stepped, following him across the bridge. It swirled into wriggling shapes before it lifted in a faint golden dust that clung to the boards of the bridge.
