Ink

Only an hour north of Sunpu Park, then, an hour from home.

“How did you know where to find me?” I yelled. My hands felt like they were slipping, and for the hundredth time I readjusted them around his broad frame.

He tilted his head back, the blond highlights whipping around in the wind and the traffic lights sparkling in his silver earring.

“I’ve had a few run-ins with them before,” he said.

What was that supposed to mean? Like the knife incident with Sugi? I remembered what he’d said then. I don’t like gangsters. I looked back at the other two motorbikes and watched them zip after us. Ikeda and Tomohiro passed us, his arms wrapped tightly around her.

Well.

“Jun.” The wind whipped my words back at me. “Did you make those snakes appear?”

“What?” He sped up.

“The snakes!” I said.

He didn’t say anything, which was answer enough.

Which meant he was one of them, too. He was a Kami.

My mind reeled. The ink at the kendo match—he must have realized what it was. I thought back to how he’d pressed me in the convenience store, in the stations, on the way to school. How’s Tomohiro’s wrist? I always knew he’d done calligraphy. Would you get him to show me his drawings sometime?

Damn. It was all a trick, and I’d let it all pass over my head.

How long ago did he figure it out?

I tried to think of anything that gave Jun away. Was there ink on his hands? Did he have a notebook with him?

I craned my neck to look over his shoulder, but the bike wobbled underneath us. He wasn’t carrying anything with him, but that didn’t mean anything anymore, not after I’d seen what Tomohiro could do without drawing anything.

Or more like what the power could do to Tomohiro.

But that was with my influence. So what were the chances Jun could do that? Pretty slim. No, there had to be some paper involved somewhere.

Jun was tall and I didn’t want the bike to flip as I shifted around, so I gave up and slouched behind him, resting my head against his shoulder to avoid the strong winds batter-ing my face.

Then I noticed the way his arms bent to grab the handlebars of the motorbike. At this angle I could see the muscular curve of his kendo-champion arms.

And I saw it on the inside flesh of his left arm, near his wrist.

A kanji carved into his own skin, fresh welts rising on the pink surface of the strokes.

Snakes.

The blood drained from my face as I stared at the carved kanji. It moved in and out of view, Jun oblivious to the fact that I’d noticed it.

It made me sick to think he’d carved it into his own skin, even if the wound wasn’t much deeper than a paper cut.

But he’d saved us. He’d told me to come to him if I ever needed help, and now I understood why. He’d figured us out a long time ago. Had we been so transparent?

We made our way south, the roads starting to look more and more familiar. The streets were almost deserted and I pulled my keitai out of my pocket to check the time. Just past 2:00 a.m., but adrenaline pumped through my veins as the lights of conbini and vending machines whirred past us.

I saw it in the distance when we stopped at a red light, the walls and tiled roof in shadow, away from the glare of the city lights. There was no mistaking what it was. The traffic light flicked to blue-green and we sped toward it.

Sunpu-jou. The castle at the heart of Sunpu Park.

Jun slowed down, the bikers killing their headlights and coasting forward as the castle rose before us.

A sign hung on the end of the bridge to keep cyclists out.

The castle always closed at night; if you stayed late at Suntaba for clubs, you had to cut through the southern or western bridges.

Jun stopped in front of the bridge to Sunpu Castle and shut off the engine.

“Here?” I asked. The others had already climbed off their motorbikes, twisting them around the wooden barrier placed to deter after-hours cyclists. Jun didn’t answer at first, lifting himself off the motorbike and waiting for me to do the same. I tugged at the straps of the helmet, shoving the heavy black plastic into his waiting hands. He hooked it around the handlebars. “You think we’ll be safe in the middle of the night in the deserted park where they first nabbed me? Are you kidding?”

Jun looked at me with curiosity, then pointed at the tall glass tower at the southern end of the park, its glossy windows dwarfing Sunpu Castle. “Under the nose of the police headquarters?” he said. “I think we’re safe from them here, yes. And who said anything about deserted?”

He turned to cross the bridge, and that’s when I saw them, the others dressed in dark shirts and jeans, clustered at the door of the castle and peering out at us. There were seven of them in all, parting to let the motorbikes through and into the courtyard. I stood there in the cool air, listening to the crunch of the gravel under the tires.

Tomohiro stepped toward me as I folded my arms across my chest.

“What the hell is this?” I said.

“That’s what I want to know,” he said. He rested a hand on my shoulder and it sent a jolt through my body to feel his fingers closing around me, to feel the warmth of the pads of his fingertips.

Ikeda and the other rider waited behind us.

“You need to get moving,” she said to us. “The Yakuza might not be far behind. We’ll be safe in the park for now.

Safer than out here, anyway.”

I peeked at Tomohiro, but he looked more unsure than I was.

Jun turned around, waiting.

We stepped forward and clambered across the stone bridge.

Fish bobbed up and down in the dark waters below, sending ripples spinning through the murky water.

Our sneakers crunched on the gravel as we passed through the giant doorway of the castle.

Ikeda and the other rider followed, pulling their bikes up to the others and dropping Tomohiro’s kendo bag beside the mini makeshift parking lot. Then a few of Jun’s friends pulled at the giant castle doors. The slabs of wood groaned as the doors ground shut.

“Are you allowed to do that?” I said, but no one answered me.

I looked at them, huddling around Jun like a timid goth following. They ranged in age, the youngest maybe twelve and the oldest in his twenties. They all wore the same dark clothes, the same grim look on their faces. Jun stood in front, his lean arms folded across his chest.

“What’s going on?” said Tomohiro.

“Yuu, I want you to know you and Katie are safe here.”

“What are you talking about?” I said. His voice was strange, his eyes gleaming. My heart pulsed in my ears. Something was off here. Way off.

“I want to help,” Jun said. “I’ve always wanted to help.”

“I don’t need help,” Tomohiro said.

“You need to trust me,” Jun said, “so I’m going to tell you everything about what happened.”

“You don’t need to tell us,” I said. “I saw the mark on your arm.”

Jun’s eyes widened for a moment, and he loosened his grip around his elbows, rubbing his fingers over his wrist.

“This?” he said, opening his arms to reveal the pale skin on the inside, the welts raised in the kanji for snake. “Yeah,”

he said. “I’m a Kami. Like you, Yuu.”