Ink

“You’re such a jerk!”

“I know,” he said and wrapped his arms tightly around me.

The warmth of him pressed in around me and I breathed in the smell of dirt, sweat and ink. He held on tightly, like he was going to break if he let go. We lay there clinging to each other, knowing the world would tilt if we let go, that without each other everything would fall out of balance.

The muffled sound of the phone woke me, and I opened my eyes to the sunlight muted by the thick curtains draped over the balcony windows. It took me a minute to figure out where I was. Tomohiro’s face rested next to mine, his hot breath ticklish on my neck. We’d fallen asleep on the couch, and somehow by tangling our limbs into the cushions we’d managed not to fall onto the floor.

The phone stopped ringing as I tried to inch off the couch without waking Tomohiro. Not a problem—he slept like a stone. My neck and back throbbed from sleeping like a yoga pretzel.

I slid off the end of the couch and arched my back, stretching out all my sore muscles. It felt like I’d been kicked around the block, which wasn’t that far from the truth.

I jumped when the phone rang again. I walked over and stared at the lit-up ID.

From Osaka.

I lifted the headset out of the cradle and to my ear.

“Moshi mosh?”

“Katie!” Diane said, but the crackling on the line was awful. “I know you kids can really sleep in, but honestly?

I’ve called five times.”

“Huh?” I glanced around the room, looking for some clock to figure out what time it was. “Sorry.”

“Is—okay?” Her voice cut out.

“Yeah, everything’s fine,” I said, rubbing the back of my neck. Just been kidnapped by the Yakuza, freed by some freaky mob with superpowers that may kill me, learned I’m connected to the Kami and slept on the couch with a senior boy. And I think I know which one of those will bother you the most. “I’m fine.”

“Okay, listen. I’m— crackle— coming back tonight, but—

hiss— need you to turn on the fax machine, okay?”

“What?”

“The fax machine. It’s— ksshhh— the bookshelf by the dinner table.”

I stared across the table at it.

“Are you listening?”

“Yeah, but it’s a bad connection.”

“I know. Turn on the machine, hon, and we’ll talk—

kssshh— get back, okay?”

“Okay,” I said, and Diane hung up. Had she ever called me “hon” before?

I stumbled toward the fax machine and pushed the button. It beeped a few times and hummed to life. Behind me I heard Tomohiro flip over on the couch. I was half-surprised he didn’t tumble right off onto the floor.

I turned to look at him, his eyes closed and his breathing slow. He looked so peaceful lying there. It was hard to imagine the nightmares haunting him. Was it true that someday he might not wake up from the horrible dreams? Or that one day he’d lose himself and come after me? I couldn’t picture it as he lay there.

Lies. They had to be. But they scared the crap out of me.

The phone rang again. The fax machine picked up the call with a high-pitched slew of beeps, and then the machine shook as it fed the blank paper through.

I stepped forward, covering a yawn with the back of my hand. My back throbbed as I leaned over to peek at the message.

Probably some kind of school forms or something for Diane.

But I hesitated. The fax being spit out was in English.

For once, I stumbled over my f luency. As weird as it seemed, I wasn’t used to reading without concentrating to try, and the fax paper was printing upside down, so it took me a minute to read the page.

The machine spat it out and started on the next page. I picked the paper up and turned it around.

It was for me.

All the beeping and printing woke Tomohiro, and I heard the couch creak as he stretched. I spun around, the paper pressed between the pads of my fingers.

He looked around slowly, but when he saw me, he bolted upright like he’d just remembered where he was. He face flushed a deep red and his eyes were big and round.

“Ah,” he stammered. “O-ohayo.”

“Um, morning,” I said, but as awkward as I felt— did it count as sleeping together? Oh god— I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the paper.

To the attention of Diane Greene, RE: Katie

“What’s that?” Tomohiro said.

Katie, sweetie, hope you’ve received our emails and phone messages. Here are the forms.

What messages? What forms?

Please fill them out with Diane ASAP so we can book the ticket. Love you, sweetie! Can’t wait for you to come home.

Nan & Gramps

What ticket?

Tomohiro padded over. He stood so close behind me I could feel his hot breath on my neck. It sent shivers up my skin.

My fingers started to tremble.

I grabbed for the forms as they fed through the fax machine, thumbing through them, freaking out.

“Are you okay?” Tomohiro said.

Hot tears formed in my eyes and I blinked them back.

They were custody papers. Gramps was in remission.

My head buzzed, and when Tomohiro wrapped his slender fingers around my shoulders, it took all the strength I had left not to collapse to the floor.

“They want me to go home,” I said.

“Home?”

“My grandparents. They’re booking me a ticket to Canada.”

Tomohiro was silent, his grip loose. “When?” he whispered.

“As soon as they can,” I said.

He didn’t say anything, and I just stared at the papers, my hands shaking.

I didn’t get it. This was what I’d waited for.

Wasn’t it?

So why the hell did I feel like someone had stabbed me?

“That’s great,” Tomohiro said eventually, and he lifted his hands off my shoulders. I turned around to face him and he looked so sincere, except his eyes didn’t match the rest of his face.

“But—” I said.

“It’s your home,” he said, but his words sounded so hollow. “It’s not the same as New York with your mom, but it’s where you wanted to be, right? With your grandparents.”

“Well, yeah, I thought so,” I said. “But I’m not sure anymore.”

“Katie,” Tomohiro said, and the low voice he used just about knocked me over. How did he look so stunning when his hair was standing at funny angles from sleeping on an ugly couch sized for Lilliputians?

“Tomo, I’m not sure I want to go back.”

“I think it might be a good idea.”

“Traitor.”

“If the Yakuza and the Kami come after you again… And I don’t think they’re going to stop…”

“And what about you? It’s okay if they come after you?”