Rain

19

“Lies,” Jun barked, but Tomo shook his head and pointed toward the snake. Jun looked back, his eyes wide.

“Susanou’s messengers,” Tomo said. “It makes so much sense. You’re the one who’s dangerous, Takahashi.”

“Impossible,” Jun said. He splashed his hand through the ink, grabbing where the snake’s neck would be. He throttled the column of black until it splashed back into the water. “I have control over my powers. You don’t.”

Tomo shook his head. “I don’t think you do. I saw your eyes, heard your voice. You’re as unstable as me. You’ve trained a bit.... So what? You still have the nightmares. You still black out, don’t you? You’ve killed, Takahashi. You’ve gone to darker places than I have.”

“I was younger then,” Jun snapped. “You had your share of accidents, too.”

“The earthquake,” Tomo said, “and the fireworks that rained down. Even this ink rain—they didn’t happen until you were here.”

“So what?” Jun said. The water curved around his cheeks and dripped down his chin. “You and your dragon caused that storm in Toro Iseki. And Katie said she’s felt tremors before, just her.”

“It’s not about starting storms or tremors,” Tomo said. “You called up those snakes, like the ones Susanou fought in the myths. You want to take over Japan like he did. You’re the one who takes lineage from him, not me.”

Ikeda wrapped an arm around Jun but he shrugged it off, stumbling to his feet. “You don’t have any proof.”

“Neither do you,” Tomo said.

“My control is my proof,” Jun said, stretching his palms out to his sides. “My power is my proof. I’m an imperial descendant of Amaterasu. I will be a king, Yuu. And you are heir to nothing but the darkness and filth of Yomi.” He spat as he spoke, and I saw the distaste in his eyes, not for Yuu, but the lack of lineage. The shallow desire for a princely line.

“You’re wrong,” said a voice like mine, but I hadn’t said anything. It had come from the edge of the forest, where the slope cut away near the ropeway to Kunozan. I turned to look.

She was gleaming in the darkness like a papery ghost. The edges of her face and hair were Tomo’s jagged pen lines, the hair left white and colorless where mine was blond. It was drawn up in a tight bun with curls that draped over the top of her head. A hairpiece of white cherry blossoms dangled down in plastic chains in front of her forehead, like the hair ornament I’d worn to Abekawa Hanabi. Her eyes were doelike and gentle, but she held her head with confidence and poise, which made her innocent nature look like an act. She had that air to her like someone who knew way more than she let on.

She wore an old-fashioned kimono, not at all the kind worn to summer festivals. It looked more like the ones from seijin-shiki, the ceremony when you become an adult and don those elegant furisode kimonos with the superlong sleeves that reach to the ground. And believe me, those were some elaborate outfits. Flowers of every size and shape had been sketched into her kimono, all colorless and empty. The color of the kimono shaded from white to gray to black on the hem and sleeves. Large phoenixes and chrysanthemums tumbled across the skirt of the fabric, and a thick gray obi was tied stiffly around her waist.

The paper version of me, the drawing Tomo had made.

She was beautiful, more beautiful than I was, and elegant. I blushed as I realized she was how Tomohiro saw me, how he had sketched me. But was that true? He’d sketched in his sleep. I hoped I looked like that in his subconscious, full of strength and sure of myself.

“Katie?” Tomo said with caution, looking at the paper girl.

She stared at him with her large eyes, her pupils pools of black ink.

“Yes,” she said. “And no.”

“Masaka,” Tomo whispered, and he stepped back. “The drawing...you’re from my dream.”

“It was the only way to reach you,” she said. “It was the only way to push you toward your destiny.”

Jun’s voice rang out from beside the pools. “You drew Katie?” he shouted. “Are you an idiot? Don’t you know that could hurt her?”

I felt nauseous as I looked at her. Tomo’s drawings often gave me motion sickness, but not like this. I took in deep breaths of the cold air, trying to steady myself against the tree trunk.

“He didn’t have a choice,” said the paper girl. “I forced his hand while he slept.”

“Why?” Tomo said. The ink dripped through his copper hair and down his face like black tears.

“Because you are at war,” she said. “You don’t know who you are.”

“He’s the heir of Yomi,” Jun said. “Susanou’s descendant.”

The paper Katie looked at Jun, her eyes shining like black stones. “No. You are.”

Jun laughed darkly and stumbled forward, Ikeda holding him upright. “Of course you’d say that. You’re from Yuu’s subconscious.”

“Nevertheless,” she said, “there is no escape for you.” There was a beam of bright white light, and I had to shield my eyes. When the light faded, she held the giant shield from the drawing. She twisted it, with effort, the whole shield groaning as it turned in the muddy grass. It wasn’t a shield at all. It was a mirror, a huge mirror lit by the same papery-white glow as the rest of the girl.

I was filled with a horrible sense of dread. I didn’t want to be here. I didn’t want to see this.

“Don’t fear the mirror,” the paper Katie said to me. “Your ink is weak, and not yours, but it is from Amaterasu.”

But Jun was transfixed. He limped forward, stumbling. He must have hurt his leg when he hit the water. He gently pushed Ikeda away, leaving her behind as he dragged himself toward the mirror.

I could see him reflected in it as he approached. He looked the same, but his clothes in the mirror had changed. He wore a dark montsuki, a men’s kimono, the jacket long and black and flared over the white-and-gray-striped hakama skirt. A white knot was tied just above the hakama and trailed up in two white cords that vanished under the coat.

I waited, half expecting the image to grow horns or growl at him or something, but it didn’t. Nothing happened, as far as I could see.

But Jun saw something else. He gasped and fell to his knees.

“What is it?” I said. “What happened?”

The paper girl looked at me and blinked her eyes, the sound of it like crinkling paper. “He sees himself,” she said. “He’s always known the truth. He just refused to face it.”

“No,” Jun whispered, looking at his hands. His voice rose as he spoke, each word wavering. “It can’t be. It’s not true! They did this to me. They took Oyaji from me!”

“And Tomo?” I said. I couldn’t wait any longer. “He’s not descended from Susanou?”

The paper girl shook her head. “Yet there is only death for him, because of his struggle.”

“Struggle?”

“Tomohiro is from two Kami lines,” the paper girl said. “His father was descended from Amaterasu. His mother is the heir of Tsukiyomi.”

Tomo’s face turned pale.

“Tsukiyomi?” I said. “Who the hell is that?”

Ikeda spoke up. “One of the three,” she said. “The three principle kami. Tsukiyomi was the kami of the moon, Amaterasu’s lover. She betrayed him.”

There were three? Oh god. I’d seriously messed up.

Tomo looked down, his eyes wide. “Tousan is a Kami?”

“One that never awoke,” the paper girl said. “But the ink manifested in you, and now you war with yourself.”

Amaterasu from his father. Tsukiyomi from his mother. A war within his own blood.

“Then he has a choice,” I said, my heart leaping in my chest. “He can choose his fate.” He could choose to align himself with Amaterasu. We could be together after all.

“There is no escape,” the paper Katie said.

“There is only death,” Tomo repeated, as if he’d heard her say it thousands of times. He probably had, in his nightmares.

I frowned. “I don’t understand.”

“There’s no good or bad kami, Katie,” Ikeda said. “The ink destroys. That’s all.”

“No,” I said. “I don’t believe it. I know Tomo. He has a choice. He makes that choice every day. Descent from Susanou or Tsukiyomi or Amaterasu doesn’t matter. It’s all the same.”

“He can’t win against two kami, Katie,” Ikeda shouted, and then I saw the tears blurring in her eyes. “We can’t even win against one!”

Jun shouted suddenly, lost in his own battle. Ink swirled around him in ribbons, not gentle like the ones that lifted as he played cello, but violent like snakes, whipping at him as he tried to push them away. “Uso,” he spat. “Not after everything I’ve been through.”

“Jun,” I said, tears blurring in my eyes. I hated seeing everyone I cared about in so much pain. Jun, who had always been composed and calm—to see him writhing on the ground was too much.

“I can’t be the bad guy,” he said, his voice hoarse, his eyes filled with tears. “I can’t. I don’t want to be. Everything...everything is slipping from me. I’ve lost everything. You’ve taken it from me, Yuu.”

He rose to his feet, new wings spreading out in tendrils of ink on his back.

“You don’t know anything about me!” Jun shouted, pointing at Tomo. “Anything!” He flapped his wings and tumbled toward a drawing of the paper Katie, clutching it to his chest.

“Takahashi, stop!” Tomo cried out.

With a loud, horrible sound, Jun ripped the page in two.

I screamed as a fire seared through me, as if my body had sliced in two. I dropped to the ground writhing, the world spinning around me. The ghostly glow of the paper Katie dimmed out, and all I could see was blackness. I was losing myself, the way I had when the fireflies attacked me.

“Katie!” Jun shouted as Tomohiro dashed to my side. His warm arms wrapped around me and pulled me from the ground, pressing my head to his chest. Tomo’s eyes were on fire as he stared at Jun. “What the hell did you do?”

“No.” Jun shook his head violently, his eyes wide. “It was only supposed to destroy Amaterasu.”

“Katie,” Tomo said, and I struggled to hold on to his voice.

Every breath was ice in my lungs, my skin like frost, but my blood was on fire, like molten lava channeling through Antarctica. I could feel it coursing through my veins. I could almost hear it. It stung, like flame spreading through me, leaving every piece of me scorched.

“It hurts,” I tried to say, but it came out as a mangled scream.

“What do I do?” shouted Tomo. “Takahashi, what do I do?”

Jun hesitated, his eyes wild, his hands outstretched like he was going to wrench me from Tomo’s arms. Maybe he was.

“Takahashi!” Tomo shrieked.

Jun spoke, his voice broken. “Don’t let her lose control. She’s linked to Amaterasu and so she felt her pain. The ink in Katie is fighting back to keep her alive. It’s trying to take over, like it did in you.”

“Stay with me, Katie,” Tomo whispered as he hunched over me. I wanted to reach up and sweep his bangs out of his eyes so I could see them better, but my hand wouldn’t listen to me. It felt like being in someone else’s body and not knowing how to work the controls.

He pressed his lips against mine, but the jolt of it made the fire spark. I jerked away from him, my body arching from the pain.

The movement made my keitai fall onto the grass. The little bell on the charm jingled as it hit.

Protection from evil.

How could you protect yourself when the evil was inside? Is this what it felt like to be a Kami?

Katie.

It was Mom’s voice, and the sound of it stunned me.

You’re not giving up, are you?

It was a memory, sitting at the kitchen table with her after a failed ballet audition. Nothing big—just a part in the class recital at the end of the year. But god I’d wanted it.

You can do this, Katie. Size it up. Move on.

“I can’t,” I said. “I can’t.”

But hearing Mom’s voice reminded me who I was. The ink in me wasn’t everything. It had tried to take my life from me before, when I wasn’t even born. And I’d won. I’d won without even knowing. I was stronger; I could beat this.

The fire dulled, and I heaved in a breath of the cold air.

Tomo’s chin rested on my forehead, bringing me back to Nihondaira, to my life.

I stared up at the gray clouds that circled the sky. Golden dust glimmered in the cracks between them, shimmering like tiny lightning strikes.

“Katie,” Tomo said.

I looked at the relief on his face. Jun hung back, watching with a pained expression.

“Tadaima,” I said to Tomo. I’m back.

Tomo laughed once and choked it back. “Okaeri.” Welcome back.

“Katie,” Jun said. “I didn’t...I didn’t mean to...”

Tomo glared at him. “Fuck off, Takahashi.” He reached for the ink-stained blazer by his notebook and stuffed it gently under my head as a pillow. Then he rose up slowly, walking toward Jun. “Get out of here. It’s over.”

“It’s not over,” Jun said, his eyes cold. They looked darker than before. “Or did you miss what your sketch said? We’ve been enemies since the dawn of time. We must put an end to what our ancestors started.”

“Jun, no,” Ikeda said.

“Are you a moron?” Tomo said. “I have the ink of two kami in my veins, Jun. If I lose control, everyone will get hurt.”

Jun stared back, his expression cold. “Which is why I have to deal with you now. I was right, Yuu. The world isn’t safe with you in it.”

“Jun,” I said. I pressed my hands into the soft grass, pulling myself up until I was sitting. “Stop it, okay? Let’s end this.”

“My thoughts exactly,” he said, shoving Tomo backward. Tomo growled in his throat, shoving Jun back.

Jun laughed. “I’m the bad guy, huh? Then I will make you suffer. I wanted to be a king, but if you want a tyrant, so be it. I don’t care if you have the ink and blood of two kami, Yuu. I’m stronger than you’ll ever be.”

The ground began to shake. I steadied myself and rose to my feet, pressing my fingers into the bark of the tree for support. Ikeda gasped, and I tried to see what had startled her. She was looking across Suruga Bay, past the water and the tiny boats, across to Mount Fuji with its snowcapped peak.

I watched with horror as a thick stream of ink gushed through the clean snow on the summit, staining it black. From this distance the torrent looked so small, but I couldn’t even imagine how much ink was pouring down the mountain.

A matching streak poured down the left side of Fuji like a tear, carving a jagged path of darkness.

Did Jun have that much power?

His eyes gleamed. “I will make the world cry.”

He lunged at Tomo, knocking him over. Sparks of gold and blue crackled around them as they fought. Jun reached his hand into the air and the ink formed into a shinai, which he brought cracking down on Tomohiro’s arm. It jabbed into the wound from the inugami bite and Tomo cried out, his face crumpled in pain. He managed to kick Jun off and rise to his feet. He ran as the wings spread on his back, flapping before they were even strong enough to lift him. He started to rise but Jun grabbed him by the waist, driving him hard into the ground.

It will never stop, I thought. Jun and Tomo. Susanou and Tsukiyomi, the kami I didn’t know anything about. And Amaterasu, the ink that swirled in my veins, too.

Wait. Maybe I wasn’t powerless. The ink might not be my birthright, but it had been on fire a moment ago. Maybe I could use it.

I flipped open Tomo’s sketchbook, but the pen was lost somewhere in the dark field. I scanned the grass, but I couldn’t see anything.

The rain poured down.

The rain.

I cupped my palms together and caught the ink as it fell.

Beside me, Jun and Tomo tore into each other, blood and ink flowing, Ikeda shouting for them to stop. Tomo’s eyes had gone large and vacant, and he fought with all the strength he had.

Ikeda stood near me, watching them fight with horror.

“Ikeda!” I shouted. “You’re a Kami, right? Can’t you do something?”

She crouched beside me. “I’m not that strong. I usually can’t get things off the page.”

“You have to try,” I said. “I’m not strong, either, but maybe together we can stop this.”

She nodded. “What do you want me to do?”

I wasn’t sure. What was their weakness? Did they have one?

Susanou, kami of storms, and Yomi, the World of Darkness. Tsukiyomi, kami of the moon.

“Amaterasu,” I said. “The kami of the sun. The shadows and clouds are making their powers stronger. Can we get rid of them?”

“I’ll try,” Ikeda said. She dipped a finger into the ink I cupped with my hands, and turned the page in Tomo’s notebook.

“That’s it?” I shouted. “‘Sun?’” Nothing happened.

“I told you,” Ikeda said. “I’m not very strong.”

“Because there’s already sun,” I said. “It’s just hidden behind the clouds.”

She cupped her hands and I poured the ink rain into them, wiping my stained hands on the grass. I dunked my finger in the ink and ran it across the page.

Please, I thought.

Thank god I’d practiced my kanji. Thank god I knew what to write.

Amaterasu. The word glowed with a faint golden dust, then turned black again. That was it. That was the extent of my power.

Ikeda dropped the cupped ink with a splash and reached in front of me. With her stained hands, she traced the kanji I’d written, making them darker and bolder.

The word rippled, then gleamed with golden sparks. It flickered with light, the way the fireflies had.

It grew brighter and brighter, and Ikeda backed away, shielding her eyes. All around us the field glowed with crisp white light, the trees turning black and gray, like we were in a moving ink painting.

There was the loud sound of thunder crashing, and Tomohiro and Jun plummeted from the sky, hitting the ground hard. Both of them lay still, unconscious. The bright light faded, until the clearing was normal again, the colors vibrant after so much darkness. The clouds were gone, except a small patch that had floated toward Kunozan, where they zapped into nothingness with a flash of blue light.

“Jun,” Ikeda cried out and raced to his side. I stared from Jun to Tomohiro. How peaceful they both looked with their eyes closed. Like they were sleeping.

Oh god.

“Tomo,” I said, running to his side.

I smoothed the copper bangs out of his eyes and wiped the ink and blood from his face with the backs of my hands.

Jun moved first, groaning as he turned his head.

“Jun,” Ikeda said.

“Naoki,” he said, and Ikeda flushed. I wondered if it was the first time he’d called her by her name. “Katie. Is she okay?” He called out for me. “Katie?”

Ikeda’s face fell. But I was too busy to worry about either of them.

“Tomo,” I said, but he didn’t move. I put my fingers against his lips, and his warm breath spread over them. He was alive, then. But was he himself or still controlled by his Kami side?

He blinked his eyes open slowly, and my body pulsed with relief to see the soft hazel of them. He was in control.

“Katie?” Tomo said quietly. He looked at me, broken and bleeding, covered in mud with ink trailing through his hair. He’d never looked more stunning.

“You all right?” I said.

He laughed, and it turned into a cough. “I’ve felt better. You?”

“I’m fine,” I said. “Let’s get you home.”

“You going to carry me?” He attempted a grin. “I can’t exactly bike right now.”

“I’ll ask Ikeda. We can come get your bike later.”

I turned my head to look toward the pools. Jun was sitting upright, coughing up ink as Ikeda dunked her handkerchief in cold water.

I went to sit with her, watching the ripples as she swirled the handkerchief around.

“Are you okay?” I said quietly.

Ikeda didn’t look up. “Jun called for you,” she said.

I knew I should be quiet, but her suffering felt like my own. I didn’t want to hurt anyone anymore. “After all this, you’re still by his side. You deserve better, Ikeda. Why do you stay?”

She shook her head. “You don’t understand. Jun has always been there for me. My parents worked all the time, and I had no siblings. Without Jun, the world was lonely, empty. Meaningless.” She pulled the towel from the water and squeezed the droplets out. “I was terrified when my drawings started to move. Jun stayed with me through my first nightmares. He showed me how to survive.” She looked at me, her eyes piercing and strong. “I owe him everything, Katie. I won’t leave his side, no matter what.”

I could understand. It was how I felt clinging to Tomo, when he’d gotten me through the storm of losing Mom and living adrift in Japan. “Ikeda, let’s get them home.”

“Katie,” Jun called out, and Ikeda’s eyes went flat and lifeless. The friendship I’d seen sparking suddenly dulled.

“No,” she said.

I blinked. No?

“I’m sick of you and your shit, Katie. Shiori was right—you’ve messed up everyone’s lives.”

What was I supposed to do? Jun didn’t feel the way she felt.

“I couldn’t care less if you make it home,” Ikeda spat. “Do you know what Jun’s been through? His whole life fell apart with a single mistake.” She pointed an accusatory finger at Tomo. “Jun tries to help him, to give him control of the ink and a chance to rule the world—and he slaps him in the face. Mou ii wa yo. I’ve had enough of your crap.”

“Ikeda, enough,” Jun said.

Tomo sat hunched over, covered in bruises, blood and dirt. “It’s over, Jun. Go home.”

Jun tucked his legs under himself. “You’re wrong. This won’t end here, Yuu. Whether it’s me who does it or not, you need to be stopped. You are dangerous; that hasn’t changed.”

“You’re right,” Tomo said. “But you’re worse. You don’t even try to fight the darkness in you. You’ve accepted your fate. That’s something I’ll never do.”

“There’s only death ahead for both of us,” Jun said. “You know that.”

Tomo paused a minute, looking down at his sketchbook and then across the bay to Mount Fuji. The snow was perfectly white again, like it had never happened.

“I know,” Tomo said. “But that’s all any of us have in the end, isn’t it? There is death ahead of all of us. And so we live.”

I returned to Tomo’s side and he wrapped his arm around me for support, leaning down to collect his notebook and blazer.

We limped away from them slowly, one small step at a time.