Ink and Ashes

by Valynne E. Maetani

  Forrest rose from his chair and left my room. When he returned, Parker was with him. Parker crossed the room and came over to my laptop. He read the full translation before he sat on the floor with his back against my closet door. “We need to call a meeting.”

  “This is a family matter,” I said. “Why get everyone involved?”

  “Because we’re all family.” Forrest placed himself next to me on the bed. He scooted himself toward the headboard so he could stretch his long legs. “You’re the one who always says we need an APM. Call Nicholas and make sure he brings Fed. Fed knows a lot of Japanese from those comics he reads.”

  APM: Axis Powers Meeting, a meeting used for strategizing and discussing important things. When Parker and Nicholas were in the sixth grade, they learned about three countries that had joined forces during World War II. They then dubbed our three families the Axis Powers, and it had stuck ever since. Nicholas and Fedele Russo were the Italians; Forrest Langford represented the Germans; and the Takatas—Parker, me, and Avery—were the Japanese.

  The next year, when Forrest and I were in sixth grade, we learned the Axis powers had not only been defeated, but they had done really terrible things—atrocities so despicable, I was convinced Parker and Nicholas hadn’t paid any attention in class at all. But by then, the name had stuck, and we decided we’d write our own history.

  “We know how you are, Claire,” Parker said, “and you aren’t going to be any fun until you feel like you’ve done everything you can to get answers.”

  Though I didn’t want the help, Parker and Forrest wouldn’t be satisfied until a meeting was called. Most likely Parker just wanted to get everyone together to play their new video game, Song of the Assassin. So I fumbled for my phone. “Fine. Get Avery, and I’ll call.” I pressed speed dial for Nicholas, and when he answered, I said, “APM. Now. Bring Fed.”

  Nicholas Russo was a year older than me, a senior like Parker, and Fedele, who went by Fed, was a year younger than me, a sophomore like Avery.

  Within a few minutes, they arrived. Avery trailed behind them and headed directly to a rug in the middle of my floor. He lay facedown and rested his head on his folded arms, ready to sleep.

  Nicholas pushed past Parker at the door and planted his thick body at the side of my bed. His deep mahogany hair was hidden beneath a Seattle Seahawks hat, and his dark eyes peered down at me with a serious expression.

  “Who hurt you, Kiki?” Nicholas asked. His low voice filled the room. At six foot four and with the body of a linebacker, most found him intimidating.

  Not me.

  I grabbed a pillow and swung it at him. “That’s not why I told you guys to come over,” I said. “And even if someone had hurt me, I wouldn’t need you to fix it.”

  He shoved my shoulder. “I know, I know. I’ve taught you well, Kiki.”

  I ignored him and turned to face my computer.

  Forrest pointed at the letter on the monitor. “Claire called you over to look at this.” I don’t remember when Nicholas nicknamed me Kiki, but Forrest had never cared for it.

  Fed bounced over and plopped into the chair at my desk. A million freckles splashed his pale cheeks, and his hair had a lot more red than Nicholas’s, but his eyes were the same dark brown. He was almost as tall as his brother, but he hadn’t inherited the same muscular frame, so his gangly ape arms swung from one side to the other when he situated himself to get a better look at the screen. “So what is it?”

  I tried to explain everything the best I could.

  “This is so cool,” Fed said when I’d finished. “Totally reminds me of Yama Katana volume one: Incipient Soul. The ghost of Kaito’s dad comes back and says, ‘You have to protect your mother and sister,’ and Kaito’s all like, ‘I’m only fourteen. How am I supposed to do that?’ And then ghost-dad says—”

  Avery lifted his head from the floor. “Fed, can you help or what?”

  Sometimes I wondered how they had ever become friends. Fed glared at Avery, then returned his focus to the note.

  His eyes moved from side to side as he looked at the image of the original letter on one side and our translation on the other. “So we have numbers . . .”

  Fed mumbled to himself for some time. Then he gasped and pointed to one of the last sentences. “Okay, I could be wrong, which I’m not, but I’m pretty sure this part right here is translated incorrectly. Your translation says ‘I always feared I would not be able to take care of this if at all times.’ But it’s not if at all times. This phrase means, ‘if I die early’ or ‘if I die an early death,’ which I know ’cause Kaito’s mom says this in volume seven.”

  Early death? I swallowed hard. Fed had to be wrong. Maybe it should have been “before I die” but even then, something concerned my father enough to want it handled if he couldn’t.

  “Are you sure?” Avery said.

  Fed nodded. “Almost sounds like he knew he was going to die or something—I mean, before he, you know, actually died.”

  Nicholas and Parker walked over to the computer and surrounded Fed.

  If he died an early death.

  My heart drummed faster. “There’s no way he could’ve known he was going to die of a heart attack.”

  “Maybe he didn’t die that way,” Fed said. “You know, like how Kaito’s dad was murdered by the Gushi Clan?”

  Nicholas jabbed Fed’s bony side.

  Fed glanced up and cringed. “What was that for?”

  Nicholas wrangled Fed into a chokehold. “I think what Fed meant is that if your father knew someone was after him, it might explain how he also knew his death was coming.” His voice was steady, even though Fed wriggled against him.

  “There’s no way that’s true,” I said. “You’re saying my father knew but didn’t leave a note behind for his kids? That he actually could have said good-bye in case something happened, but didn’t?”

  Avery’s face grew tight, his eyes narrowing. “This is messed up.” He dropped his head back to the carpet.

  Fed broke Nicholas’s hold. “In Yama Katana volume forty-three,” he said, lit with excitement, “the ghost of Kaito’s dad comes back and says, ‘You gotta get shards of yellow crystal from the heart of Mount Hakai.’ But Kaito says—”

  Avery sat up. “So are you suggesting we get shards of crystal from a mountain?” His face puckered into a deathly look. “This isn’t a manga. This is reality.”

  Fed turned in my direction. “All I’m saying is that Kaito goes on this journey.” He brushed his dark hair out of his eyes over and over again as it fell with each head bob. “And in the end, it turns out Kaito woulda been better off if he’d never gone looking for answers in the first place. I vote we forget about all of this.”

  “Because of your manga?” I said. “Who knows what else my parents have been hiding?”

  Fed bit his lip, then said, “I’m just saying . . .”

  The air felt too thick to breathe. “Okay,” I said, “meeting adjourned.”

  “We’re not finished,” Parker said. “We need to discuss a plan.”

  I shut my eyes. “What’s left to discuss?”

  “How about making sure we know how our father really died?” Parker asked.

  “So we’ll find out how he really died,” I said. “Meeting adjourned.”

  Parker sighed and shook his head. “Don’t you think we—”

  “Nope.” I rotated my chair around and stared at the letter on the screen of my laptop.

  My room felt crowded. I didn’t know what to do with all this information. I needed to get out of here. If I left now, I could drive to somewhere in California and be relaxing on the beach tomorrow.

  Like that would ever happen.

  Parker folded his arms. “We should at least consider—”

  “Not now.”

  Parker dropped his arms to his sides and motioned for everyone to follow him out of the room.

  Only Forrest stayed behind. He straightened his back, hung his arm around my shoulder an
d pulled me closer, the scent of fresh linen mixed with musk washing over me. “You okay?”

  The words froze in my throat when I tried to speak, so I shrugged. His chest moved with steady, even breaths. I focused until my rapid breaths slowed to match the pace of his.

  “I know this could end up being nothing,” I said. “But I can’t get rid of the twisted knot in my stomach telling me something isn’t right. At the very least, my parents have lied to us about my dads knowing each other, and it’s hard to trust—” Anger forged a path through my head and chest. My neck and shoulders stiffened. My breaths quickened again. I struggled to regain focus.

  Forrest squeezed my shoulder and put his chin on the top of my head. “Do you remember when we were in the fifth grade, and someone stole the model airplane Oma sent me from Germany?”

  “Yeah.” I grabbed a Hello Kitty pillow and hugged it against my chest.

  “You told me you were going to help me figure out who stole it, no matter what it took. And then you asked Mrs. Banks if you could make an announcement, and you stood in front of the class and said your dad was in charge of the whole US military, and if the plane wasn’t returned to my desk by the end of the day, you would have your dad hunt them down and take them to jail.”

  “And you got your plane back,” I said, smiling a little.

  “It was sitting on my desk by lunch.” He pulled away so he could face me. “I’m going to help you figure this out no matter what it takes.”

  I looked down. The pillow was in my lap. My breaths had slowed. The tension in my muscles had melted. I glanced at him and stared into eyes that were soft and lips that knew the right thing to say even when I didn’t. Always.

  My hand reached up to touch his cheek, but I caught myself and pulled back. “Thank you.” I vaulted off the bed and threw myself into the chair in front of my laptop.

  He sat next to me in the same folding chair he’d been using for hours.

  If there was any chance my father knew he was going to die, I needed to know. I typed my father’s name, Henry Sato, into Google, like I’d done many times before during moments when I wanted to remember him. Previously, I’d avoided some sites, run by people who had been in his courtroom, who didn’t like him.

  What would give him a reason to fear an early death? Would any of those people have had a grudge?

  I scrolled through page after page, until I got to the link of one of my favorite articles, written when my father died. The writer listed all the wonderful things Henry Sato had accomplished, including the fact that he was the youngest judge ever appointed in the first circuit. A quote from his clerk said how my father had made a difference in Hawaii. She said he was always the first one there, usually arriving at 6:00 A.M. with a coffee in one hand and Zippy’s Loco Moco in the other. His bailiff mentioned how respected my father was by fellow judges and coworkers despite his playing elaborate pranks on them every April Fool’s Day. One of the people on the maintenance staff said my father never forgot a name or a birthday, and on his own birthday, he would bring Dobash cake for everyone in the courthouse because it was his favorite.

  Forrest’s hands fell on my shoulders. I lifted my chin to see his blue eyes gazing down at the screen.

  My heart grew heavy. “They all knew him better than I did.”

  Dear Otochan,

  Mom made me help her clean out the garage today. I don’t understand why we couldn’t do it next Saturday instead when Avery and Parker would be home to help. You’d think we could’ve done some fun mother-daughter bonding thing. But no.

  And then when we were organizing the shelves, there were three boxes that had your old clothes in them. Mom wanted to donate them to Goodwill, but I wanted to keep them. I told her if I kept the boxes in my closet, she’d still have space on the shelves to store other stuff. She said to give her one good reason why I needed them, and I couldn’t. What if I want them because they were yours? She told me I could choose ONE (!!!) of your old shirts. I chose your University of Hawaii sweatshirt that says “Go Rainbow Warriors” on the front. Mom shook her head and said, “You’re just like your father sometimes.” So I said, “Good-looking?” That’s funny, right? And then I got grounded for being “sassy.”

  So I’m sitting here in my room, wondering what Mom really meant when she said I’m like you. I think she meant I’m stubborn, but I don’t remember you enough to know how I’m like you. I’d like to think I have some of your good qualities. You must have been brave because you moved to America even though you didn’t speak English. And you must have been smart because you were a judge. I wish Mom talked about you. She gets all weird whenever I ask too many questions, so I don’t bother anymore. I may not remember much about you, but I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t have grounded me today over something that stupid. She’s going to miss me when I move to London.

  Love,

  Claire, age 13

  THE GARAGE DOOR clattered open, making my bedroom floor vibrate. I wasn’t sure where Dad had been all day, but I was happy he hadn’t been there when Mom discovered I’d stolen the letter back. I knew Mom had started cooking dinner when the smell of steamed rice and marinated beef swept up the stairs and into my room.

  “I think we should go downstairs,” Forrest said and patted his stomach.

  A million thoughts raged in my head on our way down the stairs. I slid the bead on my necklace back and forth along the chain.

  Dad walked through the door from the garage and smiled when he saw me at the bottom of the stairs. At just under six feet, he was taller than most Japanese men. Parker and Avery often wished they had gotten his genes for height rather than the ones they inherited from our biological father.

  I crossed the short hallway and met him in the kitchen. “How’s my princess?” Dad asked. He put his hands on my shoulders and kissed my forehead. “Better?”

  My heart softened. How many fatherless kids like me only longed to have a stepdad like mine? I let go some of the anger from the secrets that had been kept and wrapped my arms around his waist.

  “Great.” If I was going to confront my parents, I would need to find more information on my father.

  Forrest joined Mom at the stove and helped her stir meat and vegetables in a wok.

  “Are you serious?” Nicholas shouted at a video game on the TV in the family room. I looked over and saw a race car with a crumpled hood, crashed into a concrete barrier.

  Parker thundered down the stairs and was about to pass us, but Dad held out his hand to stop him.

  “Did you get everything done?” Dad asked.

  Parker pushed up his glasses and looked at the ground. “Uh, not really.”

  Dad folded his arms. “Parker, you can’t actually go to college if you don’t put in the work to get accepted. I want a spreadsheet of all the colleges you plan to apply to, along with application due dates, the number of teacher recommendations requested, which test scores they accept, and the reason you think it’s a good fit. By tomorrow morning.”

  Parker grunted.

  Dad gave him a look.

  “I’ll have it on your desk by tomorrow morning,” Parker groaned. He wandered into the family room, startling Nicholas when he threw himself on the couch.

  Nicholas glanced up and, realizing Dad was home, hopped to his feet. Dad opened the fridge and took out a bottle of Coke. I could never taste the difference, but he insisted his drink had to be from a glass bottle, not a can. He uncapped his bottle and took a sip.

  Dad called over to Forrest. “You boys staying for dinner?” He loosened his top shirt button.

  Nicholas edged next to Dad and gave him a one-armed hug. “If you insist.”

  My brothers and I liked to joke that Nicholas was my dad’s favorite son. In Nicholas’s eyes, my dad could do no wrong. Nicholas was always the first to volunteer if my dad needed anything. He took my dad’s side no matter what.

  Most of the time it was endearing, except when it involved me. Dad always told Parker he needed to watch
out for his little sister, and Nicholas acted as if a direct order had been given to him instead.

  Forrest held his nose only inches from the pan of frying meat on the stove, breathing in the savory, curling steam. “We’re definitely staying,” he said. “I’ll help Claire set the table.” He reached into the cupboard and grabbed some plates.

  I went to the cabinet to get drinking glasses and met Forrest at the table.

  “I assume your application is ready to go,” Dad said to Nicholas.

  “Yep,” Nicholas said. “I put everything on your desk earlier this afternoon, so it’s ready for you to review.” Ever since Nicholas and Fed’s father had walked out on them, Dad helped their mom out with stuff like this because she was always working.

  “Good.” Dad clapped Nicholas on the shoulder.

  Mom nudged them to the side so she could get what she needed from the fridge. She rinsed some lettuce at the sink and tore off leaves to make a salad. Forrest and I circled the table, arranging dishes, cups, and utensils at each seat.

  “You could at least try to make yourself useful, Parker,” Mom said with a sharp edge in her voice. Parker moaned and got off the couch.

  She finished the salad with some cherry tomatoes and placed it on the table harder than necessary, the plates and glasses rattling.

  Everyone stopped moving.

  “And if you’re not going to help, at least tell your brother to come down for dinner,” she said. “I assume Fed’s here too, so get both of them.”

  Parker stepped backward a couple of yards, his feet light as if walking on eggshells.

  When he returned with Avery and Fed, we all took our seats around the table.

  “Itadakimasu.” Dad clasped his hands together and did a slight bow.

  “Itadakimasu,” the rest of us said and bowed.

  The guys piled their plates high, their food almost spilling over the edge. Avery passed some meat with his chopsticks to Parker’s chopsticks, and Mom slapped Parker’s hand. The meat dropped to the table.

  “Bad manners,” she said.

  And now, we all knew why. I caught a smirk flash across Avery’s lips. Avoiding Mom’s gaze, Dad asked all of us how the week had gone at school. The rest of the guys answered without much prodding, but my brothers and I shared some glances, not sure what to make of everything we’d discovered today.