“I told them nothing,” Ishikawa said. “You guys can trust me. You know that.”

Tattoo let out a cold laugh. “We don’t know nothing. We know you ran out on us after that stupid snake trick your Kami friend pulled.”

“He didn’t run out,” Tomo said. “He was shot. He had to go to the hospital.”

“Shut it, Freak,” Gold Chain said, and shoved Tomo roughly. Tomo stumbled backward, his bangs falling into his eyes as he stared at the ground. I wasn’t sure if I should get closer. My body tingled remembering the fear of being trapped in the back of a Yakuza truck. I didn’t want to draw their attention, not again. I stood frozen. The rest of the crowd scattered down the other side of the street, pretending they hadn’t seen what was happening. I guess they thought it was a gang brawl. They didn’t want to get involved, and I was just like them.

“Stop it,” Ishikawa said. “Look, as soon as my shoulder’s better I’ll call in, okay? Cut me a break, will you?”

“He won’t call in,” Tomo snapped, stepping toward Tattoo. He stood close, their angry faces almost touching, his breath making the boy’s hair stir. “He’s done. Find another pawn.”

“Restrain your boyfriend, would you, Satoshi?” Tattoo said. “He doesn’t seem to realize who he’s talking to.”

“Oh, I know,” said Tomo. “I’m talking to garbage.”

“Least we’re not freaks,” said Gold Chain.

Tomo laughed, and the sound of it chilled me. I didn’t like this side of him, the side that relished the darkness of the ink. Descended from Susanou, king of Hell. I shuddered.

“There are advantages to being a demon,” Tomo breathed, his eyes gleaming with dark delight. “I can draw nightmares you can’t even fathom. And I’m not like the Kami you’ve employed before. I’m dangerous, unstable. You saw that, right? So you know I could make your life hell if you don’t walk away. Now.”

They stood, breathing, silent. I clung to the school gate, watching.

“I got it,” Gold Chain said, unfolding his arms and stepping back. Tomo had done it. He’d scared him. He’d scared me, too, hearing him talk like that. Jun was right. He really was a weapon. He could be.

Tomo nodded to Ishikawa, and the two walked past the Yakuza.

That’s when they jumped him.

Chapter 13

Gold Chain went for Tomo, and Tattoo leaped at Ishikawa. Their arms swung as they tangled on the street amid the gasps of onlookers. I could hear the pounding of fists against Ishikawa’s stomach, while Tomo dodged a blow to the face and returned a punch to the nose. It was a flurry of limbs and sounds, all awful. The metallic smell of blood filled the air as Gold Chain’s nose splattered red onto the concrete. Tattoo punched Ishikawa hard in the shoulder and his white shirt swelled with dark red, the gunshot wound reopened. I had to call someone, but it involved Yakuza and Kami, and the police would mean more trouble for us. I couldn’t. I stood there, unsure what to do next. I couldn’t get involved—I had to stay away.

No. I didn’t come back to Japan to stay away. It wasn’t so I could watch Yakuza beat up Tomo while I stood there helpless.

I wasn’t helpless. I was a Kami, too. I could do something.

I stepped forward and then hesitated.

Ishikawa was on his knees, hunched over as Tattoo punched him in the head. His fingers reached into his pocket.

No, Ishikawa. Don’t.

He pulled out the knife, thrusting it at Tattoo who backed off.

“Oh, you’re dead,” Tattoo snarled, pulling a knife of his own.

Tomohiro pushed Gold Chain away, reaching a hand out to his friend. “Sato!” he cried out, and suddenly ink dripped down Tomo’s neck, pooling on the back of his shirt.

“Tomo!” I shouted.

A pair of strong hands pulled me back.

“Da-me,” she hissed. “Stay out of it.”

“Ikeda?” I looked at her.

“The crowd,” she said, her fingers pressing deep into my shoulders. “You’ll only make it worse if you get involved. Yuu will lose control of himself.”

I watched as the ink curled around Tomo’s back, feathering out into the start of raven-colored wings. She was right—it had to stop, but I couldn’t be the one. If I was in danger, something awful would happen here, in front of the crowd. The ink still looked like blood, but any second now, it was going to look like something unexplainable.

“We have to do something,” I whispered.

“I know,” she said, “but we can’t. Just wait.”

Then I heard the voice of the woman constable as the police from the kendo match dashed past us. “Yamenasai! Stop right now!”

In a blur of limbs, the police tackled the four of them, dragging them away from each other as they flailed. Ishikawa’s knife clattered to the ground and he cried out as the policeman yanked his arm backward, his gun wound bleeding down the front of his shirt.

“Katie,” said a warm voice, and then Jun was beside us. “Ikeda. Thank you.”

“Of course,” Ikeda said. “I wouldn’t want things to get worse for all of us. It’s bad enough with the attention Yuu Tomohiro is drawing to us.”

I glared at her, and Jun did the same. “Too much,” he said coldly.

She grimaced, releasing my shoulder and stepping away.

I watched in horror as the police subdued the brawl. It was one thing to see them slam Gold Chain and Tattoo up against the wall, but Tomo and Ishikawa...they weren’t criminals. They didn’t deserve this.

“That idiot,” Ikeda said. “He should never have pulled that knife.”

She was right.

One of the policemen grabbed Tomo and shoved him hard against the wall of Katakou School. His bruised cheek scraped against the cement as the cop pressed Tomo’s face into it, looking to see if he had any weapons on him.

Tomohiro squirmed under the hold, his back slick with ink. His left eye was pressed against the wall and forced closed, but the other was open, and he saw me in the crowd.

Tomo. I looked back helplessly. Everything was unraveling.

A police car pulled up and they pushed the two Yakuza into it, slamming the door on them while the woman constable talked into her radio. A second car approached, and they opened the back door of it.

“No,” I breathed.

Tomo watched me as long as he could—as they hauled him away from the cement, as they led him to the car. He stumbled over the curb, but wouldn’t take his eyes off me.

“Tomo!” I cried out.

“Shh!” Ikeda jabbed me in the arm. “Don’t get involved in it now, Katie.”

“Ikeda’s right,” Jun said. “I know it’s hard, but she’s right.”

I fell to my knees as the police slammed the car door and got in the front. This couldn’t be happening. It couldn’t. Would they charge him? Would they connect Ishikawa’s and Jun’s injuries? And worst of all, would Tomo keep the ink under control?

The crowd muttered around me, watching the drama unfold. Behind me, I felt Jun’s hands rest on my shoulders, hesitantly at first, only awkward ghosts of fingertips. But then he curled them around my shoulders and sighed, his breath warm against the back of my neck.

Tears blurred in my eyes as the cars sped away. I didn’t know what to do. There was nothing I could do. Maybe if I hadn’t humiliated Tomo inside, maybe he wouldn’t have left, and then...

I squeezed my eyes shut. “It’s all my fault.”

“It’s not,” Jun said. “The Yakuza were waiting for him. I told you—they never leave you alone.”

“Is this what they did to your dad? Waited for him?” The tears spilled over, leaving cold trails on my cheeks. I felt Jun’s hands tense. The smell of the falling maple leaves on the momiji trees swirled on the breeze. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be nosy.”

“It’s okay,” he said. “That’s not what happened.”

I stood shakily and stepped onto the road. “Where are they taking him?” I didn’t even know where to look.

“Local police box,” Ikeda said. “Which for our area is probably the station by Sunpu Castle.”

I had to go. Maybe it was stupid, but I couldn’t just stand here gawking like the rest of the crowd. I had to do something.

I started running.

“Katie!” Jun shouted, and I stopped, looking over my shoulder. The wind was colder outside than I’d expected; I wasn’t dressed for it with my bare legs and short sleeves. “At least let me drive you.”

I nodded and we raced toward the bike racks and his waiting motorcycle.

* * *

The street whirred below us as Jun drove to the police station. I clung to him, the feel of his h*ps familiar now after all the rides. The wind held such a bite, and I wondered when exactly the summer had faded away, when the fall chill had taken over. Maybe just today, when I wasn’t paying attention.

The horizontal traffic light changed to yellow, and Jun sped up. He darted through traffic carelessly, and if it wasn’t him, I would’ve been worried. But I’d seen the way he moved in his kendo matches. It might look careless, but each move was carefully articulated. I bet his driving was the same—designed to intimidate, but he was always in control.

He parked in front of the police station and I tugged my helmet off, hanging it over the handlebars of the motorbike before Jun even cut the engine. He followed behind me, up the stairs of the dark glass police station.

I hesitated at the front doors.

“You going to march right in?” Jun chuckled.

“It’s not funny.” My throat felt dry from the cold wind that had battered against us on the drive over.

“Come on,” he said, and he leaned his whole body against the door. It reminded me of the way they’d pushed Tomohiro against the wall—his face squished, his bangs covering one eye. Jun’s blond highlight looked black against the shadow of the door. For once, his eyes didn’t look so cold.

“Thanks,” I said and followed him inside.

It was a blur of activity and artificial lights inside. Someone behind the desk wrote important-looking notes, and police milled about looking busy. But I saw Tomo and Ishikawa right away, the two of them sitting with Gold Chain on benches near the desk. Tattoo was missing—interrogated first, maybe, or whatever it was police did.

I opened my mouth to call out for Tomohiro, but Jun grabbed my shoulder, shaking his head no. His earring glinted in the fluorescent lights as his head shook back and forth.

“Stay calm,” he said, “so the ink stays calm.”

I nodded. “Tomo,” I said, my voice wavering. He looked up, his eyes wide and surprised. Ishikawa looked up, too, his shirt a stained mess. There was blood trickling from the corner of Tomo’s mouth, and I wanted to wipe it away. He was looking at Jun now, and then me, but he didn’t speak.

“Sumimasen,” shouted a policeman, and I jumped back, startled and grateful for Jun’s reassuring grip. “Can I help you?”

“He’s my brother,” Jun said smoothly as he pointed at Tomo, and I blinked, my eyes huge. He was lying to the police. Oh god. We were in so much trouble. “I wanted to make sure he was okay.”

The policeman smirked. “You think I don’t know you, Takahashi? I watch kendo. I saw you in the nationals last year.” He lowered his voice. “And I’m surprised you didn’t recognize me. I’ve been to your house twice to interrogate you.”

My heart stopped. We were going to get arrested for lying to the police. Shit! How did I get into this mess?

But Jun just laughed. “I was only having fun, keiji-san,” he said. “But really, he’s our friend. The other guys jumped him, you know.”

“Listen, you know I don’t trust a word you say,” the detective said. “Not back then, not now.” Back then? What did he mean? At the hospital? But it seemed more serious than that. “You’re lucky I don’t haul you into that room and ask you some questions. About your wrist, for one.”

“I fell down the stairs,” Jun grinned, his eyes gleaming. Good grief. He enjoyed skirting danger as much as Tomo did.

“Not with that fracture you didn’t,” the detective grumbled. “And I bet I know who to blame for it, too.” He motioned at Ishikawa, Tomo and Gold Chain on the bench, and my heart flopped over. “I couldn’t lay anything on you then, and I can’t now. But don’t think I’m not watching. Now get the hell out of my station.”

“What are you going to do with them?” I asked timidly. He stared at me, anxious. He didn’t think I spoke much Japanese. I could see that. A gaijin watching police protocol was making him nervous.

“If you mean the two with anime hair, they’ll be fine,” he said. “We’ve called their parents to pick them up when we’re done getting the information we need. The others have a...complicated record. And the rest isn’t your business. Now out.”

“Thanks, keiji-san,” Jun said. He slid his fingers down my arm to grab my wrist; the motion of his warm fingertips made me shiver. “Come on,” he said gently and walked through the doors of the station. Tomo watched us go, his eyes on Jun’s grip on me. The doors shut behind us and Jun collapsed on the first step. I sat beside him and let my eyes glaze over. None of this felt real.

“What the hell were you thinking, lying to the police?”

Jun laughed. “Sumanakatta,” he apologized. “I don’t think much more of the police than I do of the Yakuza. They both let me down back then. Those detectives and I go way back.”