Storm. Amanda Sun

“Open the door, then, jackass.” Tomo yelled out; the sound of Ishikawa’s voice must have been amplified inside. The gate beside us clicked open and we closed it behind us.

      Tomo was already at the front door when we reached it. “Gomen ne,” he apologized, looking at me. “I didn’t know it was you at the gate.”

      “That’s what the vid cam is for,” Ishikawa said. It sounded like some intense security system, but it was pretty common in Japan to have a doorbell attached to a speaker and camera.

      “I laughed at your text,” I said as I lined up my shoes in the genkan and stepped onto the raised wooden hallway.

      “You sent her a text? Man, you didn’t send me anything,” Ishikawa said.

      Tomo smirked at him. “I forgot it was your first full week back at Suntaba after getting shot. I should’ve sent flowers.”

      “I’ll forgive you this time,” he said, wandering into the kitchen. I heard him open and close some cupboards.

      Tomo looked at me through his copper bangs, a worried look on his face. “Was school okay?”

      I nodded. “Other than Yuki, no one brought up the ink kanji on the chalkboards.”

      “We have bigger problems than that, Yuuto.” Ishikawa appeared in the doorway, shaking a can of soup up and down. I’d seen them before in the vending machines; it looked like a soda can, but you pulled a tab on the bottom and it heated up so you could have hot soup without a microwave. Ishikawa opened the top tab and tipped his head back to drink; the smell of the broth made my stomach growl.

      “Bigger problems?” Tomo repeated.

      Ishikawa nodded and reached into his pocket, throwing me another can of soup. Maybe I really had been wrong about him, I thought as I shook the soup to heat it. He had his good points.

      “Takahashi,” Ishikawa said, and Tomo’s face scrunched up in confusion. I pulled the tab of the soup back and took a sip; it was like drinking hot creamed corn.

      “What do you know about this?” Tomo said. We made our way into the living room, where Ishikawa slumped back onto the couch. He definitely made himself at home here. I sat down on a zabuton, a cushion on the floor near the coffee table.

      “It was him,” Ishikawa said. “He killed Hanchi.”

      Tomo turned to look at me, his face pale. “You went to see him?”

      The soup can radiated warmth in my hand. “I know it wasn’t a good idea, but...”

      “He could’ve hurt you!”

      “Calm yourself,” Ishikawa said, tipping his head back over the couch arm to empty the can of soup into his mouth. “I was with her the whole time.”

      Tomo rolled his eyes. “Like I said. She was completely defenseless.”

      “Oi,” Ishikawa said, tilting his head upright to glare at Tomo.

      I reached for Tomo’s hand, slipping my fingers into the curl of his. “We needed to know,” I said. “We had to talk to him.”

      “What if he’d attacked you, or kidnapped you? We can’t trust him, Katie. He wants to kill me, and what if he hurts you?”

      I stopped, remembering the nightmare. Why had I thought Jun might still be on our side? Of course he was dangerous. I had to protect Tomo. “I’m sorry,” I said. “It was stupid to go.”

      He shook his head and ran a hand through his copper spikes. “I just... I hate to be trapped in here, not knowing what’s going on. I don’t want to see your life destroyed because of what I am.”

      “It’s not just you,” I said. “This affects me, too.”

      “And me,” Ishikawa said. We both looked at him. “What?” he said, putting his soup can on the coffee table with a clank. “I may not be a Kami, but I am Yuuto’s best friend. And I have an objective view of what’s going on.”

      Tomo leaned back against the wall. “That’s a big word for you.”

      “Uruse.” Ishikawa flipped him the finger. “Here’s the thing. It’s not just about you lovebirds anymore. Jun’s going to set the world on fire, one tree at a time.” He rose from the couch and approached Tomo, resting a hand on his arm. “This affects everybody. It’s everyone’s problem. He’s more screwed up than I am, man. He said he wanted to ‘purge you from the world.’ Who says that?”

      Tomo gasped and doubled over like the air had been knocked out of him.

      “Tomo!” Ishikawa and I each grabbed one of his arms as he keeled backward toward the hardwood floor. Gravity pulled him down as we tried to keep him upright. We lowered him gently as he shook.

      Whispers gathered on the air, a cacophony of voices that grew louder as Tomo writhed on the floor. I’d heard these voices before, and I checked Tomo’s eyes, frightened. His pupils flooded with black, large and vacant.

      “Oi, Yuuto! Snap out of it.” Ishikawa tapped Tomo’s cheek, trying to wake him from the nightmare overtaking him. “We’re right here. Come on, man.”

      “Tomo,” I said again. “Don’t let it win. Find yourself.” Tomo let out a cry, and ink welled up underneath his shirt. It poured down his arms, dripping onto the floor.

      Ishikawa leaned back, his eyes wide. “Kuse!” he swore. “What is that?”

      He could see the ink, too. Oh god. This was bad.

      Tomo yelled, but his voice didn’t sound right. It echoed like the voices on the wind. He curled his hands into fists, his fingers slippery from the greasy black ink.

      I grabbed his hand, the ink warm on my fingers as I wrapped them around his. “Tomo, it’s okay,” I said. “It’s okay.”

      He looked at me with those large eyes; he shook with fear. “No,” he said. “No!”

      Ishikawa looked at me with panicked eyes. “No what?”

      I knew then. Not me, but something inside me knew. Tomo and I spoke the words together, as if I’d said them a hundred times.

      “No escape.”

      The ink lifted into the air in a dust of fluttering gold, and Tomo closed his eyes, falling into a heavy sleep.

      “You guys are freaking me out with your synchronized weirdness,” Ishikawa murmured. We were sitting on the couch, watching Tomo sleep on the floor. We’d discussed carrying him up to his room, but figured it was better to put a blanket over him and watch him for now.

      I sat with my feet pulled up, my toes curled over the edge of the cushion. “It’s the Kami blood,” I said. “Amaterasu and Tsukiyomi warring in him for control.”

      “Creepy,” Ishikawa said. “Like, real kami? As in he’s possessed or something?”

      “I don’t think so. More like awakening to the destiny he can’t escape. He’s Kami and human. He’ll become the whole person he really is.”

      Ishikawa sneered. “Don’t be an idiot. I know who he is. He’s Yuuto. That’s all.”

      I blinked. I’d never thought of it like that, but he was right. Tomo had spent his whole life creating his own identity, becoming who he was. To suggest he was some other person, some time bomb that would destroy the world...that wasn’t him.

      I must have stared into space too long, because Ishikawa frowned as he looked at me. “What, Greene?”

      “I was just thinking