Storm. Amanda Sun

was in Nagoya, about two hours west of Shizuoka by bullet train. They were thought to be replicas, but Amaterasu’s mirror was supposedly the real one, and they kept it in a shrine in Ise, Mie Prefecture. I pulled up a map to see where Mie was. Southwest from here, past Nagoya and curved around a bay of water.

      Outside the rain began to fall, tapping against the sliding door to our tiny balcony. I hoped Diane would be home soon, or at least that she wasn’t caught out in this. It was getting heavier by the second.

      The breath caught in my throat as I looked at the search page. The real mirror of Amaterasu. Was it really the real one? I knew the Kami were real—I knew the ink lived in me and in Tomo—but it was still a scary thing to think about, that someone as powerful as Amaterasu had really existed. The paper copy of the goddess, the one whose name I had written with Ikeda in the sketchbook, had already been strong enough to send both Tomo and Jun reeling in the sky. After learning they were descended from Susanou and Tsukiyomi, Tomo and Jun had grown ink wings and fought high above the trees. It was only with Ikeda’s help that we’d summoned Amaterasu’s power to blast them apart and stop them from killing each other.

      And that was only the Amaterasu that Tomo had drawn. What about the real one? For anyone to have that amount of power was terrifying. And like Ikeda and Niichan had told me, kami didn’t play by our modern rules of morality. They had their own code entirely of what was right and wrong.

      I shut down the search tab and reached for the lid of my laptop, but the news column on my home page made me hesitate. The kanji for death, , stared up at me from the headline. I clicked the article, my hand rising to my mouth.

      Two more Yakuza found dead in Shizuoka. They showed old photos of them, smiling.

      I knew that one. The Korean guy with the Mohawk who’d brought the bottle of green tea over when Hanchi was forcing Tomo to draw. His photo smiled back at me, completely unaware of what awaited him in his future.

      I scrolled down the news article, much of it still illegible to me with my current kanji-reading abilities. The page showed a photo of the crime scene, a dark graffiti image painted across the rice paper door in the room where they’d died.

      A black viper, tall as a person, with ink dripping down his painted fangs.

      Oh god.

      I grabbed my keitai, my thoughts whirling. I pressed it to my ear, listening to the ring as I held back tears.

      His voice was steady, emotionless. “Katie.”

      “Jun, please,” I said, holding the phone with shaking hands. “Please stop.”

      “I can’t do that.”

      “You can. You have to.” The rain swelled, beating against my window as the wind whipped the storm around.

      “Katie, these aren’t innocent people, you know. We’ve talked about this. The world is better off without them.”

      “That’s what courts are for,” I said, the tears streaming down my face. “I should call the police.”

      His voice softened, warmth seeping in. “They won’t believe you.”

      “That’s why I’m asking you to stop. Please.”

      A pause. “It’s not in my hands anymore.”

      “I don’t get it.” And then it dawned on me. His followers. “Wait...is your Kami cult helping you?”

      “Katie, I...”

      The rain pummeled my window as I jumped to my feet. “I thought you said most of them weren’t strong enough for their sketches to lift off the page!”

      “They’re not, but...when Amaterasu showed me the mirror, the truth about who I really was, I felt the shift. I felt the power of Susanou awaken in me. It’s affecting them, too. They grow stronger being near me, the way Yuu and I were affected by you.”

      Ishikawa was right. It was war, and Jun had his own army. Could you fight death sketched on a page? How do you catch the murderer? How do you protect the victim? My mind raced.

      Jun’s voice turned gentle and patient. “Katie, the Kami are rising. It’s a new world now, and we don’t need these scum polluting it. Listen...almost every religion in the world talks of a final judgment, right?” He laughed, the sound of it jarring in my ears. How the hell could he laugh at a time like this? “I’m the heir of Susanou. This is my fate. It’s always been my fate.” I collapsed onto my bed, the rain outside nearly overcoming the sound of Jun’s voice. “I’m the heir to the ruler of Yomi, the World of Darkness. The Judge. I will fulfill my purpose until the end.”

      “Not like this,” I pleaded. “That can’t be what it means. You don’t have to do this. You can choose your own fate.”

      His calm voice cracked open, his voice tinged with panic. “It’s not like I want to do this, okay? Sometimes you have to do things you don’t want to do.”

      This was the real Jun, now. This was the guy who’d rescued me in Oguro, the one who’d asked me out for coffee. But then I realized, fear creeping up my spine—the other side of him was just as real, wasn’t it? They were both him.

      “But Tomo is fighting his fate.”

      “Tomo is the descendent of Tsukiyomi. Don’t you get it? Tsukiyomi lost his mind and murdered the other kami. What do you think is going to happen with Yuu?” My heart froze; I collapsed onto my knees, the hard tatami pressing lines into my skin. Murdered the kami? Is that what had happened to Tsukiyomi? Is that what would happen to Tomo? “It can’t go on forever like this. You always knew it would end. He’s a monster that should never have existed. A monster who wished to be human. Sore dake. That’s all.”

      I clutched the phone as the rain poured. Everything was changing. Everything was ending.

       There is only death.

      I took a deep breath. “You’re a monster, too, Jun.”

      “Gomen,” Jun said, his voice a whisper lost in the rain. “I’m sorry it has to be this way.” And then he was gone, and there was nothing but the sound of the rain washing away the only world I’d ever known.

      I woke to the sound of my keitai buzzing beside my laptop. I blinked, trying to orient myself in the dark room. Had Diane come home? I hadn’t heard her. The rain was quiet now; the storm must have stopped. The phone screen was too bright to look at with my tired eyes, so I lifted it to my ear as I stretched out my legs.

      “Hello?”

      “Katie-chan?” It was Niichan, Yuki’s brother. I realized my mistake then, that I’d answered the phone in English.

      “Oh, hi,” I said, switching to Japanese.

      “Sorry, is it too late to call? I think I woke you.”

      “No, no,” I mumbled, rubbing my eyes. “I was in the bath.” I stopped midrub. That was more embarrassing. “I mean, um, the rain is really something, huh?” Bath was furo, and the verb for raining was furu. Maybe I’d get away with it.

      Niichan sounded like his face was bright red. “Uh, I...don’t know,” he said. “It’s not raining in Miyajima.”

      “Right,” I said, squeezing my eyes closed.

      “Is everything okay? I was worried about calling so late, but you sounded nervous on your message.”

      I shook my head and flicked on my bedside light so I wouldn’t