I heard a rustle of paper and the creak of the floorboards. “If it fell out of your bag, that’s most unfortunate, Tomohiro-kun,” the policeman said. “Tell me, did you attend Abekawa Hanabi this weekend?”
The memory of the policeman grabbing his radio flashed through my mind.
“One of our officers is an avid kendo fan and recognized Takahashi. And he overheard you threaten to break his other wrist.”
Want to sign my cast?
If you don’t get out of here, I’ll give you another to match.
Tousan’s voice rose. “Tomohiro!”
I waited, the silence thick as he hesitated. “It was just talk. We’re kendo rivals. I didn’t mean it.”
Suzuki sighed. “Threatening someone must be taken seriously. And after talking to the teachers at your school yesterday, we know you have a history of getting into fights.”
Oh god. The world around me stopped.
“That was after his mother died,” Tousan broke in. “It was hard on him. He’s come a long way since then. My boy isn’t someone who would do this.”
“We can’t ignore this link, Yuu-san—we have to do our job, you understand.” There was a creak that sounded like someone lifting himself off a couch, the click of something plastic. “Tomohiro-kun, if you remember any more details about Ishikawa or Takahashi, could you let us know? You can reach me at this number.”
“Thank you for coming out of your way,” Tomo’s dad said.
There was another creak as Suzuki lowered himself into his shoes by the genkan.
The door snicked shut, and Tomo’s dad grunted. “Stay away from those boys, got it? The last thing I need is you causing me more trouble.”
He meant the accident with Koji, when Tomo’s drawings had almost scratched out his classmate’s eye and brought on a lawsuit.
Footsteps thumped against the stairs and I retreated into Tomo’s room so I wouldn’t look like I’d been eavesdropping.
“Hiro! Are you listening?”
“I’m listening!” Tomo shouted back. The door creaked open.
“Tomo,” I said. “Are you okay?”
He slumped on the floor beside me, dropping his kanji-printed headband onto the hardwood. A faint trail of blood sprayed across the white cotton. Tomo combed a hand through his bangs and sighed. “How much did you understand?”
I stretched out my legs. “Enough.”
“He thinks I had something to do with it,” he said. “They found a spray of blood in Sunpu Castle. Takahashi’s...on my tenugui. And they heard us at the festival this weekend.”
“I know.” I rested a hand on his arm.
“If it was just the Takahashi thing, I could’ve admitted to it. I could pass it off as a rivalry taken too far. Guys being stupid, right?” He leaned his head back against the frame of his bed.
“Except now they think Takahashi and Ishikawa are linked,” I filled in.
“Takahashi’s going to use this. If he talks, I’m done. I’ll have to join his Kami cult.”
“We’ll find another way,” I said. But everything was crumbling around us.
I had to talk to Jun. I didn’t have a choice, even if Tomohiro wanted me to stay away from him. I had to get this under control fast, for both of us.
I waited almost an hour outside of Shizuoka Station for him. I checked my watch so many times I started to know what time it would be before I even glanced down. Tea Ceremony Club had made me later than usual, but I was pretty sure Jun still had the same cram-school schedule as the first term. I couldn’t have missed him.
Every nerve in my body pulsed as I waited. Maybe my thoughts were running away with me, but the possibilities seemed endless and terrifying. Things had felt almost normal on my first day back to school—how had I not realized that the past would blow up in our faces?
A group of guys joked to each other and walked past me into the station. They wore the same Katakou School uniforms as Jun’s—navy pants, white short-sleeved shirt, navy blazer and a striped blue-and-green tie. Almost identical to Suntaba’s uniform except for the green stripes instead of red. The group of guys must have just gotten out of an after-school activity, so it was possible Jun could be arriving soon, too. They probably had a ton of different clubs at school. I might have missed him.
Another ten minutes, and I was about ready to give up. I didn’t want to face going home with all these questions in my head. How could I sleep knowing one word from Jun would get Tomohiro in trouble? Tomo could act all sly with the Yakuza, but what would he do once the police were involved? They didn’t care if he made ink move—they cared if he shot one boy and hit another.
As I shifted my weight to leave, Jun rounded the corner toward the station. He had his leather book bag slung over his shoulder with his left hand, while his right hand swung awkwardly away from his side because of the bulky cast. The blond streaks in his hair clung to his face because he didn’t have a free hand to tuck them back. A girl walked beside him, the two of them lost in conversation. Maybe she went to the same cram school, I thought. She had a green-and-navy pleated skirt, kind of like mine, and the handkerchief around her neck was green—also from Katakou School, then.
She turned as she laughed about something Jun said, and I hesitated.
I knew her. Ikeda, the girl on the motorbike.
Great. Two Kami to deal with. But I didn’t have a choice. I needed to talk to him, whether she was there or not.
“Jun,” I blurted out, approaching them. Jun stopped mid-sentence, startled. Ikeda’s fingers wrapped quietly around Jun’s arm. Oh, I thought. She’s either scared I’ll hurt him again, or she didn’t like me using his first name. Or both.
“Katie,” Jun said, lowering his book bag to his side. “Is everything all right?”
“Um.” I stared at the two of them. A few weeks ago I would’ve been running from them, and now I was seeking them out? Jun tossed his head to try to get the black-and-blond hair out of his eyes. I sighed. I didn’t have a choice, and anyway, he looked pretty harmless at the moment. Except for his eyes, which always looked too cold. “Can I—can I talk to you?”
Jun’s mouth opened but he didn’t say anything. Ikeda didn’t look pleased.
“Oh,” he said finally. “Of course. Mochiron. Here, or do you want to go somewhere?” He smiled pleasantly but my nerves buzzed louder. At least he looked more like the guy who’d gently plucked petals out of my hair than the guy who’d carved kanji into his own skin. I could see the corner of the scab where his blazer sleeve lifted up.
“Jun,” Ikeda said, and her sharp voice startled me. “We’ll be late.”
“It’s okay,” he said.
“But—”
“Ikeda, this is important. Go without me.”
Ikeda glared at me, and I felt itchy all over.
I blurted, “If you need to go...” What was I even saying? I needed to talk to him now.
“I don’t,” Jun said, his eyes gleaming. “Let’s get coffee.” He lifted his left arm slowly