Storm. Amanda Sun
and pulled a shoe off, even though the Third Year cubbies were on the other side of the room. “A month? Do you know how out of shape that shrimp is going to get in a month? He’ll lose the nationals!”
“Suntaba’s never placed in the nationals,” Tanaka said. He tapped his toes against the floor to fit on his school slippers. “That’s nothing new.”
“Yeah, but this is Yuuto we’re talking about,” Ishikawa said. “I want to see him beat Takahashi to a pulp.” But he kept looking at me, and I knew he wasn’t talking about kendo.
“You should be careful, too, Ishikawa-senpai,” Yuki said, pulling on the end of her pink scarf until it tumbled down from her neck into her waiting hand. “I heard you almost got suspended for your injury this summer and the fight outside the kendo match.”
“That’s none of your business, First Year,” he sneered, and looked at me. “Do I even know this kouhai?” he asked, hooking a thumb toward her.
“She’s my best friend,” I said, “and she’s right. You’re treading a fine line yourself.”
“Maa, whatever,” he said, running a hand through the white spikes of his hair. “I don’t need to be lectured by juniors.”
The school bell chimed, and Tanaka and Yuki headed down the hallway toward our class. I turned to follow them, but felt Ishikawa’s warm fingers tug on my sleeve.
“Hey,” he said quietly, his voice a hot whisper against my neck, his eyes deep brown and gleaming. “Is Yuuto okay?”
I hesitated. Was he? The nightmare flashed through my mind, and then thoughts of what had happened a few days earlier—fighting Jun in the sky with a rain of ink falling, learning he was linked to Tsukiyomi, that Jun was out for vengeance. I pressed my tongue to my lips, the knowledge of it swirling together in the pit of my stomach. “I don’t know.”
“Let me know what I can do.”
“Hanchi’s dead,” I said.
He looked surprised that I knew, his fingers stiff for a moment before they relaxed their grip. “Yeah.”
My voice was barely there. “I’m scared it was Jun.” I’m scared Tomo is next. I didn’t say it, but Ishikawa looked like he knew, like he was thinking the same thing. His other hand slipped into his blazer pocket. He wouldn’t be stupid enough to bring his switchblade to school, would he? But this was Ishikawa, after all. He would be stupid enough.
“Meet you here after class,” he said, and then he was gone down the hallway, and there was nothing for me to do but get to my homeroom and start the school day. I slid in the door just before the class rose to bow to Suzuki-sensei, my thoughts whirling.
How could I stop Jun, if it was him? And how could I stop Tomo if Tsukiyomi headed down the same destructive path that Susanou was leading Jun?
My phone buzzed in my bag, startling me out of my thoughts. When Suzuki-san turned to write on the board, I smuggled the phone up and behind my textbook.
Still in my pajamas. I think I got the better deal.—Tomo
I grinned and slid the phone back into my bag. With all the darkness closing in around us, I was glad to see Tomo still shining.
* * *
Ishikawa was slumped on the floor, one leg bent with his arm draped over it, the other leg stretched into the hallway, forcing students to step carefully around him. The spikes of his hair were pressed flat against the wall, his eyes closed.
I stepped forward, kicking at the calf of his outstretched leg. “Rude,” I said, and he turned his head to look at me. “You’re tripping everyone up.”
He grinned, his teeth as white as his hair, and rose to his feet. “Your fault, Greene. If you’d gotten here sooner, I wouldn’t have fallen asleep waiting.”
“How’d I get stuck hanging out with you, anyway?”
He smirked, sliding open the door to the genkan so we could put on our shoes and coats. “That would be Yuuto’s fault. As always, he’s the source of all my problems.” He zipped up his dark green coat, the dark fur trim around the collar looking a little ridiculous around his pale face and hair. “What?” he asked, and I realized I was staring.
“You look like a temaki roll,” I said.
He rolled his eyes. “Ha-ha. Green coat, white hair, looks like sushi. Let’s move.” He pushed open the door to the courtyard and a gust of cold air swirled around us. He didn’t have on the standard school loafers, but wore shiny black shoes that were slightly pointed at the toes. “So,” he said, “fill me in.”
I walked alongside and told him everything. I figured it didn’t matter how much he knew. He wasn’t the enemy anymore; no matter what, he was on Tomo’s side. So I told him about the fight with Jun on Mount Kano, about the fact that Tomo was linked to two kami, Amaterasu and Tsukiyomi—the sun and the moon, lovers turned enemies. I told him about Jun and how he’d killed his own father by drawing with hatred, and that I thought the same thing had happened to Hanchi.
He stopped on the top stair of the Shizuoka Station tunnels. “Well, fuck,” he said.
“Exactly.”
He turned on his heel and headed north. I had to hurry to keep up with his wide strides. “Wait, where are you going?”
“We don’t have enough information,” Ishikawa said. “If Takahashi is involved with Hanchi, things are going to get messy, and I need to know.”
I felt the blood drain from my face. “Wait, you’re not going to sic the Yakuza on Jun’s Kami cult out of revenge, are you? You’ll start a war.”
He shook his head, his cheeks pink from the autumn cold. “If it’s true he killed Hanchi, Takahashi’s the one who started it, not me. And you forget that I’m not exactly on good terms with them right now. They’d just as likely pound me into the ground as trust me. They’d think I was heading a sting operation or something. But we need to know if it was Takahashi, because if it was, then we have a shit storm to prepare for.”
“So you’re not on the Yakuza’s side?”
“I’m on Yuuto’s side, Greene.” His voice was soft, vulnerable, and I had to strain to hear him through the wind. “I always have been. Ikuze. Let’s go.”
I wanted to remind him how he’d put all our lives in danger by involving the Yakuza in Tomo’s secret. I wanted to remind him of the anger I’d seen in his eyes, the hatred there. But he looked so sincere now that instead I found myself wondering. Had he really thought his actions were for the best all along?
We walked north toward Katakou School, Sunpu Park on our left. Half of the leaves lay in piles at the bases of the trees, but the others clung to the branches, not yet ready to let go, hanging on to what little warmth the autumn held. The wind stung my cheeks and I readjusted my scarf to try and cover them. We were going to see Jun. What would he say? I could hear Tomo warning me in my mind. Go back. Don’t confront him. It isn’t safe. But Ishikawa was on a mission, and it would be worse if I wasn’t there to temper whatever stupid thing he ended up saying. And, anyway, I wanted to know. I couldn’t stand not knowing what Jun was thinking, or what kind of threat we had to fear from him.
We approached the gates of Katakou and Ishikawa walked through without hesitation. Crowds of students heading home stared as he stormed into their courtyard, but none of them confronted us. Maybe they remembered how he’d pulled a knife outside the kendo match at their school, how he and Tomo had been yanked into police cars with the two goons who’d picked the fight in the first place.
“Oi,” Ishikawa grunted at one of the students, who flinched. “Which homeroom is Takahashi Jun’s?”
“I... I don’t know,” the boy stammered, speeding toward the gate and avoiding further eye