I squeezed my hands into fists and walked slowly through the gateway. The bright red beam towered above me, the paint peeling in strips, the wood underneath it gray and chipped. I waited for some sign of the ink, a tug or a whispered voice or something. But nothing happened, and then I was on the other side.

I sighed quietly, walking quickly to catch up with Yuki and Tanaka. I was still me. I was still human. Maybe there wasn’t enough ink in me to trigger the alarm. Or maybe alone I just wasn’t a danger.

I followed Yuki and Tanaka to a small gazebo-type building. The green-tiled roof sloped against the four red beams, painted with gold trim. Inside the gazebo stood a long basin, carved with snaking dragons on the sides. I shuddered, remembering the coiled dragon in Toro Iseki. Along the top of the basin were rows of bamboo cups on long wooden sticks.

“The chouzuya,” Tanaka said, lifting one of the ladles. He dipped it into the water, and Yuki put her hands out over the water. I did the same. Tanaka poured the cold water over our hands and it dripped off our fingers into the basin.

“What’s the chouzuya for?” I asked, reaching into my book bag for my hand towel. Everyone carried them; mine was pink and blue with a big yellow star on it and some cute cartoon kids. It made me think of Tomohiro’s elephant one, and I tried to shake the thought away. He was with Shiori right now. They were having dinner. God, I’m such an idiot. Why did I tell him to go?

“Just ritual,” Yuki shrugged, drying her hands and stuffing her towel into her bag.

“It’s a cleansing thing, isn’t it?” Tanaka said. “Purifying for the shrine or something? I don’t really know.”

That was the way a lot of things in Japan were. You just did them; you didn’t ask questions.

We wandered through the buildings, looking for Niichan. Straw ropes draped over the doorways and shrines, white paper thunderbolts hanging from the cords like jagged branches. Everywhere I looked was something sacred to the kami. No wonder Tomo hadn’t wanted to come here.

I peered into the roumon gate to see if Niichan was by the other entrance to the shrine, but all I could see were the cars zooming down the street.

I turned back to the main grounds and gasped. A dragon of gold loomed over the gate, his horns pressed against the ceiling. Above him dark swirls of plaster trailed along the red beams. They looked...they looked like ink.

“You found the Mizunomi-ryu” came a familiar voice, and I jumped. I looked beside me to see a smiling face.

“Niichan!” It was Yuki’s brother, the one who’d hosted us at his house on Miyajima Island at the beginning of summer. The one who’d shown me a moving painting at Itsukushima Shrine, a painting that only came alive for Kami.

“Katie,” he grinned. “Nice to see you again.” He wore a pair of dusty jeans and a loose white shirt with a green polo unbuttoned over top. “Genki?”

“I’m doing well,” I said.

“This is one of the treasures of the Sengen Shrine,” he said, pointing up at the golden dragon. “The Mizunomi Dragon.”

“Mizunomi,” I said. “Mizu as in ‘water’?”

He nodded. “He was a dragon formed by koi,” he said. “They were so determined to climb a waterfall that they didn’t believe it was impossible. So they kept trying, and when one reached the top, the kami turned it into a dragon.”

My heart nearly stopped. The koi fighting each other that Tomo had drawn—they’d been biting each other’s tails and circling. If he’d left them, would they have turned into a dragon?

“Good thing this guy is here,” Niichan said, his voice quiet. “When the shrine burned down, this dragon supposedly came to life and splashed water all over the fire. He saved the shrine for Tokugawa. It’s not actually true, of course. Just a legend.” He had a look in his eyes, and I knew this was more than a myth. There had been Kami in this place.

“It’s not true,” I repeated, and he nodded slowly. We understood each other.

“Niichan!” Yuki shouted, and she and Tanaka came running.

“Oh, Yuki,” Niichan laughed, ruffling her hair. “Ichirou. Nice to see you again.”

“You, too, Watabe-kun,” Tanaka said.

“Please,” Niichan laughed. “I keep telling you. Call me Sousuke.”

“Here, from Mom,” Yuki said, holding out the cloth-wrapped bentou.

He took it from her, swinging it back and forth. “Thanks. Praying for exams while you’re here?”

Yuki rolled her eyes. “Please, like I need to.”

“You need to,” Tanaka said, and Yuki smacked him.

“Just bringing you the sandwiches, and we thought Katie might like to see the shrine.”

“Anything else I should see, Niichan?” I said quietly. One look at him and I knew he’d understood what I meant.

“Yeah,” he said. “I can show you a few things.”

He led us into the main building, passing by full-size model horses, painted a milky brown and tethered to either side of their red stalls.

“They escaped during the fire,” he said. “But came back when it was safe.”

Did he mean it? Had they come alive? I thought the ink could only move drawings, but after I’d seen the inugami on the building growl...I didn’t know anymore. Anyway, the horses were painted—was that enough?

“Niichan, what are you saying?” Yuki said, looking embarrassed.

Niichan chuckled. “Just old stories.”

It was dark inside the main building, and I could barely make out the different urns and paintings plastering the edges of the room.

“Maintenance,” Niichan explained. “The main hall’s off-limits until they get the lights fixed.”

I looked up at the lights, and I saw what he’d brought me here to see.

A dragon exactly like the one Tomohiro had drawn was painted on the ceiling.

He had been painted in coils of serpentlike scales, his eyes never leaving me as I moved around the room. Clouds of shadow swirled around him, flecks of gold glinting inside them.

“It’s him,” I said quietly. My body shivered like ice had trickled over me.

“Who?” Tanaka said.

Crap. Had I said it out loud?

“The dragon who saved this shrine,” I said. “It wasn’t the gold one at all, was it?”

Niichan laughed as he led us out of the building.

“Tokugawa’s hardworking servants did that. Dragons cause trouble.”

Of course, because the ink dragon wouldn’t put out a fire. He was ready to eat me when Tomo had drawn him in the field. He wasn’t exactly a do-gooder.

That’s when I realized what Niichan was telling me.

The ink dragon had started the fire. Maybe he’d knocked over some candles, maybe he’d even breathed fire. I didn’t know, but I was certain of one thing—he’d tried to kill Tokugawa, just like he’d tried to kill Tomohiro. They’d both drawn him.

I felt hopelessness then. I excused myself from the group and wandered the shrine grounds, the gravel crunching under my feet.

Generation after generation of Kami, hunted by the ink that marked them. It never stopped until it got them in the end. It would never stop until it got Tomohiro. Until it got me.

Why? It didn’t make sense. I rounded a patch of trees, following the path away from the painting of the dragon. I passed a stall filled with omamori, protective charms from the shrine for every possible need—good grades, health, finances, love. The girl behind the table smiled at me, her bright red hakama skirt and white top making her look like a colorful kendouka. I waved a hand at her to tell her I wasn’t interested in buying the charms and kept walking, deep in thought.

I thought Amaterasu had been the protector of Japan. Why would she want to destroy it? Weren’t the Kami her descendants?

The trees broadened here, and there was another building, almost forgotten. An elaborate phoenix painted in rainbow colors perched on the doorway, and the nearby trees were wrapped with thick Shinto rope hanging with white paper thunderbolts.

I sat down, leaning my back against the tree. I felt so lost. Tomohiro was cursed. The Kami hadn’t found a way out in centuries. What hope did he have?

I had to stay away from him. At least that way, he’d have a long life before the ink got him.

Shit! Why did I have to think like that? Why did it have to be so difficult? Why did I have to lose everything, too?

“Katie?” Niichan’s gentle voice came from the trees. I looked over and started to get to my feet, but he waved at me to stay where I was.

“Where are Yuki and Tanaka?” I asked.

“Wandering around the grounds looking for you,” he said. “I told them I was going to eat my sandwich. Mind if I sit?”

“Why are you telling me these stories, Niichan? I thought you didn’t want me to think about the Kami.”

Niichan frowned, sitting on the ground beside me. He rested the neatly wrapped furoshiki on the ground and pulled at the ties until the cloth dropped to the sides around the polished black bentou. “The weight of it is heavy on your face, Katie. Anyway, Yuki can’t keep her mouth closed, remember? She’s told me you’re dating a senior at your school, one who likes to sketch and gets into fights. I’m only guessing but...I think it’s related.”

“It’s too dangerous,” I said. “I know that now.”

Niichan nodded, lifting the lid from the bentou and placing it gently on top of the cloth. “Yuki thinks the world of you. I don’t want to see you get into trouble.”

“I don’t get it, Niichan. Why are the Kami so dangerous? Aren’t they supposed to protect Japan?”

“Whoever said that?”

I stared at him, surprised. “Isn’t that what Shinto is all about? People pray at the temple for protection and good fortune from the kami, right? Like, good grades, good health, stuff like that.”

“Or do they pray to appease the kami? Are the kami giving good things or withholding the bad? Do you think the ancient beings of Japan care about our modern judgment calls of what is desirable?”

“I don’t get it,” I said.

“What we consider justice isn’t what justice was even a hundred years ago,” he said. “And the kami go much further back than that. It’s hard to understand what they want, but they were always fighting with each other. Maybe they want to protect Japan. Maybe they want it back from us. And maybe they just had so much power in them that in human hands it’s out of control.”

“The last one sounds likely,” I said. “It’s more than he can handle.” My face went pale. “I mean—”

“I already guessed,” Niichan smiled, lifting one of the sandwiches from the box. “But keep the secret better from others, okay?”

I got to my feet, walking toward the shrine. The sun was starting to set, and the glow of it caught on the phoenix feathers. “So which shrine is this?” I said, touching the red support beam with my hand.

“Otoshimioya,” he said. “Actually, this is the shrine that has the most in common with Itsukushima where I work.”

“It doesn’t look as big as the ones back there.”

“It’s not the principle building.” Niichan took a bite from the sandwich and waited until he finished chewing. “But it’s for a daughter of Susanou, like in Miyajima.”

“That’s the kami of storms, right?” I said, running my hand down the beam.

He took another bite. “Yeah. Amaterasu’s brother.” He reached for another sandwich, his hand bumping the lid of the bentou. It clanked into the box and the sound startled me.

“Amaterasu,” I said, staring at the phoenix. Niichan grunted agreement behind me.

“They didn’t get along,” he added. “Susanou controlled storms, but he was also the ruler of Yomi, the World of Darkness. Kind of like Hell, I guess.”

A thought appeared in my head, slowly, the idea blurry and strange. But it sharpened as I thought about it, until I could barely contain it.

Oh my god.

What if Amaterasu wasn’t the only one with descendants?

Chapter 11

The world spun with the thought in my head. What if there were Kami descended from Susanou? Wouldn’t they be as evil as he was? Wouldn’t they be at war with Amaterasu’s Kami?

“Niichan,” I breathed, my throat thick and parched. He looked up from his sandwiches. “Are all the Kami descended from Amaterasu? For sure?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Of course. I mean, I think so. Why?”

“What if they weren’t?”

“Katie. It’s time to step away from all this, okay?” Niichan wiped the back of his hand across his mouth, the sandwich crumbs tumbling onto his jeans. “Stay away from the boy at your school. It doesn’t matter who he’s descended from. You already know he’s dangerous. Please, if not for your sake then for Yuki’s. Just let it go.”

I opened my mouth to answer, but Yuki and Tanaka appeared from around the trees.

“Katie,” Tan-kun said, waving at me. “We’ve been looking everywhere. We’re heading back to the station.”

Yuki crouched behind her brother. “Niichan, you knew we were looking for her. Why didn’t you tell us you were over here?” She smacked the back of his head with her hand.

“I-te!” he snapped, rubbing his head. “Jeez, Yuki. I’m eating my sandwich. You want me to choke?”

I was numb, barely able to pretend everything was fine. What if Tomohiro was descended from Susanou? Maybe...maybe he really was a demon. That was why he struggled with his power, wasn’t it?