Rain

12

The next morning I got ready early, putting on my new pink blouse and lacy beige skirt with my soft pink ballet flats. It wasn’t so much that I was dressing up for him. I was trying to blend in more with the other girls, and here, supercute and girlie fashion was the way to go.

Okay, so it’s not like I didn’t hope he noticed how adorable the combo was.

Wow, Katie. What happened to staying away?

Great. So my resolve was going to last all of five seconds?

I headed toward Katakou School, where the prefecture tournament would be held. The stands were already thick with crowds when I arrived, and I searched for the best possible place I could sit to watch the matches.

I stepped down to the next aisle and just about tripped over a girl’s purse.

“I’m so sorry!” I blurted out and the girl looked up at me. She wore a bright red dress with a lacy sweater. The skirt of her dress ruffled out like a ballet tutu but was way too short, so she’d paired it with leggings and a pair of cute sandals.

“Shiori?” I said, her presence throwing me off. “You came to watch kendo?” She seemed too...delicate for it somehow.

“Not kendo,” she smiled. “I came to support Tomo-kun.” Of course. I hoped she wouldn’t ask me to sit with her. It seemed so awkward.

Instead, she said, “I wish you could sit with me, but there’s just no room here. Maybe somewhere in the back?” She said it pleasantly, like we both didn’t notice the slight it was.

I noticed. And it was almost worse than having her ask me to sit.

“No problem,” I said. “Um, I’ll just...”

“Greene!” I looked down the row and saw Ishikawa, his bright white hair sticking out in the crowd like a kendo flag.

“Excuse me,” I said, a little smug. It felt good to be invited, even if it was by Ishikawa. I sidestepped down the row and collapsed into the seat beside him. “Hey,” I said. “You were allowed to leave the house for this?”

“No, but since when has that ever stopped me?” He wore a white dress shirt with a red tie and khaki pants. The shirt was so thin I could see the bandage patched over his shoulder and the colorful outlines of the tattoo on his arm. “I’m doing better, but I couldn’t miss this.”

“Everything...okay?” I said. “You know, with the—”

“The police?” he said. He waved a hand in front of him and I looked. Four cops stood on the sides of the gym, dressed in black with official white bands encircling their arms just above the elbow. “Nah. They keep questioning me, but I’m not going to talk.”

“What are they doing here?” I panicked. They weren’t going to arrest Tomo, were they?

“Relax,” Ishikawa said. “After today, their whole conspiracy theory will be blown to smithereens. Anyway, if Takahashi and I are here cheering for Yuuto, it won’t look suspicious for him, right? No malice, no motive.”

“Those are big words for a rice ball,” I said, flicking him in the shoulder.

“I’m not a rice ball, Greene. Do you know the meaning of the myoji for ‘Satoshi’? Wisdom. It’s wisdom, jackass.”

“Uh-huh,” I said. “Do you know what irony is? Because your mom did.”

He laughed. “You’re as bad as Yuuto.”

“So Ju—Takahashi is here, too?”

“Over there.” He pointed a few rows down, where Jun sat with a group of kids. They laughed and joked as they waited for the first match to start. Some of them were dressed in school uniforms, holding banners in blue and green.

I looked past them nervously to the police. One of them, a woman constable, was talking to the referee. I hoped Ishikawa was right. I was tired of worrying about what they might find out.

The kendouka entered the gym in a line and the crowd rose to their feet, cheering. The competitors wore full bogu, but I noticed Tomohiro right away. The way he walked, with confidence and grace. The way he held his shinai with just the right amount of tension. He looked beyond the league of any of the others. He looked like an ancient samurai.

“Yuuto!” Ishikawa screamed, waving his arms in wild circles. “Ganbare!”

Tomohiro looked up and saw both of us. I couldn’t see his expression through the men, but he saw us, together, cheering for him. Maybe that was enough.

I took a deep breath. “Ganbare!” But the crowd had quieted down, and my voice rang out in the silence. Trust me to embarrass myself.

“Aaaand now the whole gym knows you’re in love with him,” Ishikawa said. “You have quite the pair of lungs. Impressive.”

“What about you?” I smirked. “You were as loud as me.” I’d just meant it as a gibe, but I realized what I’d said the minute the words were out.

“Yeah, well,” Ishikawa said, his eyes soft as he stared straight ahead at the kendouka. “It’s you he heard.”

My heart hurt a little, but I wasn’t sure why. I wanted to ask if he was okay. “Ishikawa, are you—”

“His best friend,” Ishikawa said. “So shut up.”

“Kendouka, in position!” the referee called.

Tomohiro was up first, against a junior from Katakou. I could hear Jun’s voice as he called out, cheering for the boy I didn’t know. Tomohiro advanced as he shrieked a kiai. He galloped across the floor toward him and smacked the shinai toward the kote.

“Point!” yelled the main referee as the three of them lifted their red flags.

“Already?” I said.

Ishikawa laughed. “Yuuto’s gonna mop the floor with that kid.”

He wasn’t kidding. It was an easy match for Tomo. The shinai clacked together as the two circled in the arena. Tomohiro lunged, and the boy barely blocked it. But he stepped too far into the move, and Tomohiro snuck his shinai underneath for a hit to the dou.

Next up were two girls from a school we didn’t know. And then a boy from Suntaba against a girl from Katakou. The matches went on and on, but every time Tomohiro went up, the competition had no chance. He was in perfect form, focused and quick, his attacks precise and calculated.

I wasn’t the only one who noticed. The police muttered to each other below us.

But they couldn’t suspect him just because he was winning, could they? That wasn’t fair. He hadn’t done anything. I mean, on purpose. We had been responsible for Jun’s fracture, but not to put him out of the tournament.

Match after match, Tomohiro got faster, sharper, more vicious. I shook when he screamed his kiai—had he always sounded so frightening? A whistle blew as his shinai accidentally lunged toward an opponent’s leg. When had he ever got a penalty warning like that before?

The match ended, and the crowd clapped wildly. He was heaving each breath in now, exhausted. He lifted the men from his shoulders to cool off.

That’s when I saw his deep black eyes, the pupils large and empty.

“Oh shit,” I said.

“Greene,” Ishikawa said, clasping my shoulder. “Such language.”

“Look, moron,” I said quietly. “His eyes.”

Ishikawa breathed out. “Oh shit.”

“Like I said. What are we going to do?”

“That’s why he’s getting so aggressive. It’s like when he attacked you in practice.”

Tomohiro was on his last match of the tournament now, lunging again and again. His elegant form and careful thinking were gone. He attacked viciously, without thought. It was like he wasn’t even the same person.

“Yuuto!” Ishikawa yelled out, but it didn’t faze him. He nudged me in the arm. “Snap him out of it, Greene.”

“Tomo-kun!” I yelled. I could feel Shiori’s eyes on me as I yelled. And then Jun turned around, startled by the sound of my voice. “Tomo-kun, stay calm. Faito!” But it was like he couldn’t hear me.

He raced toward his opponent, turning his back to us. And then I saw that the tenugui headband wrapped around his copper hair was dripping with black ink, trailing in raindrop lines down his back.

Jun noticed, too. He rose to his feet, looking at me frantically.

We couldn’t reach him. He was going to lose control right here. Some scary ink thing would explode around him and the police would arrest him, maybe worse. He was a demon, Susanou’s descendant. He was capable of anything.

“Tomo!” I shrieked, my whole body shaking. I felt so helpless.

Jun curled his hands into fists and turned to face the tournament. Tomohiro’s opponent was running scared now, dodging every deadly attack. The referees looked antsy, ready to call Tomo on any violation they could.

“Yuu-san, faito!” Jun chanted, and the sound of it startled me. He said it over and over in a steady rhythm. “Yuu-san, faito!” He curled his fingers into fists, shaking them up and down in time with the chant.

Beside me, Ishikawa joined in. Then Shiori.

And then the whole crowd added their voices.

Jun was trying to reach him. He was trying to break him out of it. The crowd chanted as one loud voice.

“Yuu-san, faito! Yuu-san, faito!”

The boy stumbled and fell backward in the arena. Tomohiro lifted his shinai into the air, the way he had with me in practice. I watched, unable to move. My heart beat in my ears, and my pulse raced.

And then the ground started to shake, just a little. I looked at Ishikawa, alarmed.

“Just a tremor,” he said. “Keep chanting!”

But it wasn’t just a tremor. It was moving in time with my pulse.

Tomohiro screamed out, his shinai throttling downward. The boy winced as it approached. The referee’s whistle started to blare in his mouth.

“Tomo!” I shrieked.

Tomohiro stumbled, almost falling on the boy. The whistle died off, cut short. The earthquake stopped rumbling.

The boy quickly lifted his shinai up and struck Tomo’s dou.

“Point!” yelled the referee, the white flags rising.

The shinai dropped from Tomo’s hand, landing in a splatter of black ink. I gasped, but no one else seemed to see it. Tomo had lost, and the boy had won. That’s all anyone focused on.

Tomo fell to his knees, the shinai gently rolling back and forth on the gym floor. He reached his hand out to the boy and said something we couldn’t hear. The boy took his hand and Tomo pulled him up. They put their arms around each other’s backs and raised their free hands to the crowd in triumph.

Everyone cheered loudly.

“Nice move, Yuuto,” Ishikawa said quietly, and he was right. Tomo had won the crowd over; they’d forgotten what he’d almost done. He was the gracious loser now. He was the good sport.

I looked where the patch of ink had bled around his shinai, but it was gone, as if I’d imagined it. But sometimes the others didn’t see the ink the way I did; Ishikawa hadn’t said anything. But Jun turned to look at me, his lips pursed in a tight line. He’d seen it, too. Maybe only those with ink inside saw it.

Only Kami. And artificial inductees.

I wasn’t sure which was worse—belonging, or not.

“Come on, Greene,” Ishikawa said, rising to his feet.

“Where are you going?”

“Are you stupid? Tomo needs us right now. The match is over—let’s go.” He grabbed my hand and pulled me along the row. Shiori and her bright red ballerina outfit were long gone. We twisted toward the door and down the stairs to the gym floor.

I hesitated, unsure if we should be down here. Wasn’t this kind of an official area? But Ishikawa slammed his palms against the gym doors and walked in, determined, his eyes lit as if they were on fire.

The gym lights shone brightly into my eyes. All the kendouka were milling around, gathering their supplies, going over their point totals with the coaches. In the corner I saw Watanabe-sensei with the young kendouka from our school. Tomo was sitting on a bench beside his navy-and-white sports bag as he chugged down a bottle of water. His headband was draped across the wooden seat beside him, and his copper spikes pressed against his head, slick with sweat.

“Tomo,” I said, stumbling toward him. I sat beside him on the bench, resting my hand on his back as he twisted the cap back onto the water bottle. Ishikawa dragged a chair toward us and straddled it backward, resting his hands on the back of the chair and his chin on the back of his hands.

“Yuuto, you okay?” His eyes gleamed, and I had to look away.

“Fine,” Tomohiro said. “But I had to throw the match.”

Ishikawa nodded. “You had no choice. You couldn’t exactly win every time. That’s a little suspicious.”

“It was the ink, wasn’t it?” I said. Why were they pretending it hadn’t happened? “You lost control.”

Tomo stared at the police, who were pretending not to watch him as they circled the gym. His voice was just above a whisper. “Could we talk about it later?”

But I couldn’t let it go. “That boy,” I said. “You almost put him in the hospital.”

Ishikawa snorted, thumbing toward himself. “Wouldn’t be the first time he put a boy in the hospital.”

“Shut up, Ishikawa.” I rested a hand on Tomo’s. “What happened?”

“I don’t know, okay?”

“Did you stop drawing again?”

“Katie,” Tomohiro snapped, and I didn’t like the way he said my name. “I can’t talk right now.”

Why? I wondered. The police wouldn’t know what we were talking about. But I was mistaken. Shiori appeared suddenly, dressed in her deep red and tulle. She’d even painted her nails a glittery red to match. She held a white towel in her hands, and she looked past me like I didn’t exist. This was why we couldn’t talk now, not the police.

“Here, Tomo,” she said. “Your towel.”

“Thanks,” he said, grabbing it from her and wiping at his face.

Ishikawa looked as pissed as I felt. “Shiori, could you give him some space?”

“It’s fine,” Tomo said, and I felt my cheeks burn. It wasn’t fine. I didn’t like her being here. I didn’t like her calling him Tomo.

“I think maybe it’s you two who need to give him space,” said Shiori. Her voice was like stone; I’d never heard her sound like that before. “What do you expect to do for him, Satoshi? You want to get Tomo-kun mixed up in the same trouble you’re in?” Ishikawa opened his mouth but said nothing; his eyes burned. He lowered them to the gym floor, and the disappointment stung. Why didn’t he talk back? Tomo didn’t say anything, either. He sat there panting, the towel wrapped around his neck, his fingers twisting and untwisting the water-bottle cap.

So I spoke. “That’s hardly fair, Shiori. You don’t know what happened.”

She looked at me with hard eyes, and for the first time, I truly saw the revulsion there. “All I know is things changed when you got here. Tomo was fine until then.”

Everything froze. A million replies screamed in my head but I couldn’t get them out of my mouth.

“Shiori,” Tomo said.

“It’s true,” she snapped. “You used to be happy, Tomo! You used to joke around all the time when we were together. Now you look like you haven’t slept in weeks.” I thought about how happy they’d looked at the festival, Shiori’s pet goldfish swimming endless circles in that plastic bag. Nowhere to go, just around and around. We can’t be together. We can’t be apart.

“He’s going through a lot right now, okay?” I said, rising to my feet. “You wouldn’t understand.” Shiori was shorter than me, but she stared me down anyway, her hands resting on either side of her pregnant stomach.

“You’re the one who doesn’t understand. You’re a gaijin, Katie, a foreigner. You don’t belong here.” I felt like I’d been slapped. Her voice trembled, rising louder and louder. “You’re making his life miserable, don’t you see that?”

“Shiori!” Tomohiro shouted, and even the police on the other side of the gym looked at the sound of it. Shiori’s cheeks flooded with a red that matched her dress. Her eyes blurred with tears.

“You know what, forget it,” she said, her voice wavering, and she turned to leave the gym.

I don’t know why I followed her. I was pissed off, humiliated, but there was something about her pain that was so familiar. Being alone, being rejected—I couldn’t let her go. I was the reason Tomohiro had stopped answering her calls. I was the reason he’d pulled away.

“Shiori, wait,” I said, meeting her at the doors to the gym. The tears ran down her cheeks now, her mascara started to blur in the corners under her eyes. “I’m sorry, okay? Look, we’re all worried about Tomohiro. He needs all of us right now.”

She blinked, reaching into her purse for her hand towel to dab at her eyes.

“You don’t get it, do you?” she said. “We’ve known each other since we were born. Our moms were best friends. How long have you known him? And you know what’s best for him and I don’t? You’re in the way, Katie, not me.”

She didn’t even know the half of it, how I was causing these violent outbursts of ink.

“Shiori, listen—”

Her voice wavered. “I’m sick of listening. I’m sick of waiting by the phone while he’s out with you. Do you know what I’ve been through for keeping this baby?” Her voice took on an edge to it, sharp and wavering, as she spoke just below Tomo’s hearing. “Do you know what it’s like to enter your homeroom and your desk is missing? To have your textbooks burned in the chemistry room when you’re eating lunch? To have slut and whore and ugly bitch written on your locker in permanent ink?”

My body tingled with numbness. I didn’t know what to say.

Shiori grit her teeth, her eyes flashing. “My phone goes off all night with messages to kill myself. Do you have any idea how hard it is to carry on like that?”

“I’m so sorry,” I said. “Shiori, I’m sorry.” I’d had no idea it was that bad. It made me sick to my stomach.

Tears had welled up in her eyes, but she clenched her fists at her sides.

“All I had left was Tomo...and you’ve taken him from me. Leave us alone, Katie. You’ve done nothing but screw up our lives. I’ll take him back.” She narrowed her eyes. “I’ll make you know what it feels like.”

She turned and pushed through the doors, and I stood there, my body feeling like it would burst in every direction at once. I was horrified, and I was stunned. I shook as I tried to keep it together.

The doors opened again, startling me. It was Jun, his silver earring sparkling in the bright gym lights. His blond highlight clung to his cheek, and his cold eyes gleamed from under the sway of his jagged bangs.

“You okay?” he said.

I nodded, although I was far from fine.

Behind me, I heard Tomohiro’s voice, dark and unfriendly. “Takahashi.” I turned and saw him approaching with Ishikawa. “Get away from Katie.”

Of course; he didn’t know why I looked so upset. He probably thought Jun was threatening me or something.

Jun held up his hands and smiled. “I’m just here to see how you are, Yuu,” he said. “That was a tough last match—you okay?”

“I’ll be better when you leave,” Tomo countered, and Ishikawa grinned, hunching his shoulders as he put his hands in his pockets. I shuddered. He wouldn’t bring his knife to the match, would he? No one was that stupid.

“Easy,” Jun said, nudging his head slightly in the direction of the police. They were watching, two of them muttering to each other. I could imagine what they were saying now. The victims and the suspect, all together, and Tomo threatening Jun once again. “We want to look friendly, right?” Jun was right. We didn’t want them zeroing in on him.

Ishikawa folded his arms and tilted his head back. “Then you better be going.”

“I just wanted to see if you were okay,” Jun said. “I saw your little blackout.”

Tomohiro smirked. “None of your business.”

“When it involves Katie, it’s my business.”

Tomo’s eyes lit with fire at the bait. “Stay away from her.”

Jun’s eyes were cold, unforgiving. “What if she doesn’t want me to stay away?”

“You’re dreaming, jackass.” Tomo narrowed his eyes as he breathed deeply, his body shaking with the effort to restrain himself.

Jun smirked. “Oh really? Ask her. She deserves better than a spoiled demon brat who can’t control his power.”

“Fuck you, bakayaro!” Tomo lunged forward and pushed Jun’s chest hard with the palms of his hands. I gasped as Jun stumbled backward, his bangs loosening from behind his ears and fanning across his face. He tilted his chin down, glaring at Tomo as he clenched his fists at the side. Tomo moved toward him again.

“Ochitsuite,” Ishikawa warned, grabbing Tomohiro’s arm. “Calm down.” Tomo yanked his arm out of his friend’s grip and stepped toward Jun.

The police had noticed. Two of them were walking over from the far end of the gym.

I grabbed Tomohiro’s other arm, squeezing myself in front of Jun to put distance between them. “Tomo, take it easy, okay? Did you even notice who started the chanting that broke through to you? Jun saved you out there!”

Tomo’s face twisted like he’d been punched. Then it hit me. Oh god. I’d said Jun instead of Takahashi. Taking Jun’s side while calling him that would be totally humiliating. My body coursed with mortified embarrassment.

“I mean, Takahashi helped you.” I tried to fix it, but it was too late. I couldn’t take it back. It was more than a hit to Tomo’s pride. It meant Jun and I were on friendly terms. He could see that.

Tomo stared at Jun and shifted his weight back and forth, snorting out deep breaths as he restrained himself from fighting.

“Yuuto, the police,” Ishikawa warned quietly.

Tomo stood rigid for a moment, then narrowed his eyes at Jun. He spat, “You’re not worth it.” His shoulder butted against Jun’s as he stormed toward the doors. Ishikawa stared with his still-burning eyes at Jun, but Jun’s were like ice. I couldn’t tell how he was feeling.

“Next time I’ll pound your face in,” Ishikawa told him, and then he was gone, calling out to Tomohiro as he trailed him out of the gym.

The police had reached us. “Everything okay here?”

“Fine,” Jun said, putting on a fake smile. “Just a disagreement.”

“Pretty loud disagreement. Was he threatening you?”

Jun shrugged. “Kendo matches take a lot out of you. Yuu-san is just exhausted, I know that.”

“Takahashi Jun, the kendo champ, right?” the policeman asked. When Jun nodded, he continued, “How’s that wrist healed up?”

I tensed. Jun could destroy Tomo now.

“Fine,” Jun said. “Can’t believe I was so clumsy to fall down the stairs.”

The policeman frowned. “Hmm. Well, hope to see you compete again soon.”

“Of course,” he answered. The police retreated, and then Jun and I were alone.

Jun tucked his highlights behind his ears and then tried to transition the movement into a subtle hand on my shoulder. I didn’t mind, though—I was too shaken up. “Are you okay?”

Everything was a mess. Maybe Shiori was right—every time I tried, I just screwed up everything.

“I don’t know.” I felt like screaming and crying at the same time. That couldn’t be too healthy. “Why did you say that, Jun?”

His shoulder slipped from my hand and he tugged nervously at his earring. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said it like that. It came out wrong.”

I sighed, rubbing my temples.

“Let me make it up to you,” Jun said. “We could go for coffee?”

I don’t know if he meant it in a friendly way or something more, but I snapped. It was too much.

“Look, can you just give me some space?” I couldn’t stop myself. “Tomo’s my boyfriend, Jun, okay? We’re together. I can’t go for coffee with you.”

I’d overdone it.

“Okay,” Jun said, his voice quiet. “I get it.”

“I need some air,” I said, pushing through the gym doors. What I needed was to find Tomohiro and apologize. What a stupid thing to be sorry for—calling another boy by the wrong name, when I wasn’t even used to such a cultural rule—but I couldn’t leave this mess the way it was.

I twisted through the hallways of Katakou School, feeling guilty I knew the layout so well. I headed into the courtyard, where the crowds were milling in and out from the tournament.

It was easy to spot Tomohiro and Ishikawa in the crowd thanks to their dyed hair. They were outside the gate of the school, turning north toward Ishikawa’s house. I hadn’t missed them, then; I had time to make it right.

“Tomo!” I shouted, but he couldn’t hear me over the crowd. As I pushed my way through, I saw two guys approach them on the street. They didn’t look like kendo spectators. They wore T-shirts and ripped jeans, and one had a gold chain around his neck. The other had a sprawling tattoo on his shoulder, like the one on Ishikawa’s arm.

Oh crap. Yakuza? Here? My mind raced. But they looked too young to be Yakuza, no older than Ishikawa. Maybe they were Yakuza-in-training like him. Whatever they were, their eyes were hard as stone and their fists huge. This couldn’t be good. I inched closer to the gate, scared for them to see me, fighting the urge to run the other way.

The tattooed guy folded his arms across his broad chest. “Well, well,” he said. “The squealer and the freak.”

“He’s not a freak,” Ishikawa said. “And I didn’t squeal.”

“That so?” said Gold Chain. “Why did the police visit you in the hospital, huh? You think we didn’t notice?”

“Hanchi says you haven’t answered the guys’ calls,” added Tattoo. “Sounds like someone’s loyalty’s wavering.”

“I’m still on bed rest, man,” Ishikawa said.

“Looks like it,” said Tattoo.

“Look, let’s just go, Sato, okay?” Tomohiro said. The two of them stepped forward to leave. Gold Chain shoved Ishikawa back roughly, and Tomo tensed.

“What’s the rush?” Gold Chain grinned. “We’re not done talking here, Freak.” He stepped closer to Ishikawa, so that he was just about breathing into his face. “What’d you tell the police, huh, Satoshi? You tell them we shot you? You tell them what you’ve been up to?”

“I told them nothing,” Ishikawa said. “You guys can trust me. You know that.”

Tattoo let out a cold laugh. “We don’t know nothing. We know you ran out on us after that stupid snake trick your Kami friend pulled.”

“He didn’t run out,” Tomo said. “He was shot. He had to go to the hospital.”

“Shut it, Freak,” Gold Chain said, and shoved Tomo roughly. Tomo stumbled backward, his bangs falling into his eyes as he stared at the ground. I wasn’t sure if I should get closer. My body tingled remembering the fear of being trapped in the back of a Yakuza truck. I didn’t want to draw their attention, not again. I stood frozen. The rest of the crowd scattered down the other side of the street, pretending they hadn’t seen what was happening. I guess they thought it was a gang brawl. They didn’t want to get involved, and I was just like them.

“Stop it,” Ishikawa said. “Look, as soon as my shoulder’s better I’ll call in, okay? Cut me a break, will you?”

“He won’t call in,” Tomo snapped, stepping toward Tattoo. He stood close, their angry faces almost touching, his breath making the boy’s hair stir. “He’s done. Find another pawn.”

“Restrain your boyfriend, would you, Satoshi?” Tattoo said. “He doesn’t seem to realize who he’s talking to.”

“Oh, I know,” said Tomo. “I’m talking to garbage.”

“Least we’re not freaks,” said Gold Chain.

Tomo laughed, and the sound of it chilled me. I didn’t like this side of him, the side that relished the darkness of the ink. Descended from Susanou, king of Hell. I shuddered.

“There are advantages to being a demon,” Tomo breathed, his eyes gleaming with dark delight. “I can draw nightmares you can’t even fathom. And I’m not like the Kami you’ve employed before. I’m dangerous, unstable. You saw that, right? So you know I could make your life hell if you don’t walk away. Now.”

They stood, breathing, silent. I clung to the school gate, watching.

“I got it,” Gold Chain said, unfolding his arms and stepping back. Tomo had done it. He’d scared him. He’d scared me, too, hearing him talk like that. Jun was right. He really was a weapon. He could be.

Tomo nodded to Ishikawa, and the two walked past the Yakuza.

That’s when they jumped him.