Ink

Tomohiro gave me a hard look, his eyes like gleaming stones. “It doesn’t matter what they do to me,” he said. “It might even be better if they—stop me. But I need to know you’re safe.”

“Oh, and so what you need is so important?” I spat, but really I was shaking at what he’d said. More like what he hadn’t quite said. “How can I know you’re safe if I’m not here to save your pretty ass?”

“Katie—”

“Don’t ‘Katie’ me!” I shouted. “You all think you know what’s best for me. It’s my life! I get to choose!” He stepped back, stunned, and the tears spilled down my face. “You want to be in control of your life. Well, I do too!”

I let the tears curve down my cheeks, not caring if I looked awful. And suddenly Tomohiro blurred toward me, and his arms wrapped around me. He held me so tightly I thought I might break, and then he let go a little and my lips found his.

He gently reached up and smoothed my hair over my shoulders, cupping my neck with his warm hands. He kissed the tears off my cheeks, until my head buzzed with the warmth of him, until I forgot about the black hole about to swallow me up.

He leaned back, shaking the bangs out of his eyes. A second later they fell in again.

“Do you really think my ass is pretty?”

“Shut up,” I said, and he grinned.

The doorbell rang, and we stood there stunned. The grin dropped from his lips, and the warmth in me turned icy cold.

“Is it—” I whispered.

Tomohiro curled his hands into fists.

The doorbell rang again.

“Stay here,” he said and padded toward the door.

“Don’t answer it!” I hissed as I followed him around the corner. The papers dropped from my hand as I grabbed the phone off the table to call 911. No, wait—crap! Why did I still not know who to call?

Tomohiro pulled the door open and peered out.

Tanaka and Yuki stared into the genkan, and their faces flooded with red as quickly as ours did. I panicked. We must have looked like crap, still in our dirt-and ink-stained clothes from yesterday, our hair totally messy, and— oh god. And our lips swollen from kissing. We stood there, all four of us looking like tomatoes.

“Tomo-kun!” Tanaka stammered.

“I-Ichirou.”

Yuki put her hand to her mouth and stared at me, the edges of a huge grin visible between her fingers. I knew exactly what she was thinking. And I had no clue how to convince her it wasn’t what it looked like.

“Um,” I said. Wow, real articulate.

“Ohayo,” Yuki said, bowing to Tomohiro. He folded his hands across his chest, trying his tough-jerk look from school, but I’d never seen his face so red.

And knowing he was thinking about that made me go lobster-red. I swear my ears felt like they were burning.

“It’s great weather today! Um, can we come in?” Yuki said, looking at me funny. She was trying to save me.

“Of course,” I said.

They shuffled into the genkan and slipped out of their shoes, while Tomohiro and I moved back to give them room.

“We tried to call, but you didn’t pick up,” Tanaka said, tugging at his shoelaces. “Yuki-chan got worried, so we came to check on you.”

“Because you’re supposed to be staying at my house while your aunt is away,” she said. “But of course, I see you’re fine.”

“Um, I wasn’t— I, um, we were practicing kendo at school yesterday and he came over afterward. We were so tired we just—”

Yuki started waving her hands madly. “Oh, I know, I know,” she said, which meant she totally didn’t believe a word I was saying. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Maybe we should go,” said Tanaka.

“It’s fine,” said Tomohiro. “Come in. Did you have breakfast yet?”

They exchanged glances.

“What?”

“It’s almost noon,” Tanaka said. Yuki looked like she was going to burst. She kept stifling her nervous giggles.

“Well, lunch, then.” Tomohiro grinned. Somehow the color had returned to his face and he looked filled with confidence.

I really hated him.

Tomohiro pawed through the fridge and pried out various bowls and bottles. He lifted a pot onto the stove top and started mixing dashi powder into a stock.

Yuki grabbed my elbow and yanked me into the hallway.

“I can’t believe it!” she squealed in a whispered voice. “You and Yuu last night!”

“It’s not like that.”

“What’s he like?” she said. “I bet his tough thing is a facade. He’s got a gentle touch, right?”

“Yuki!”

“Okay, okay.” She giggled. “But he cooks? I never expected our kendo champ to cook. Next thing you’ll be telling me Ishikawa does creative dance.”

I listened to her babble while Tanaka chatted with Tomohiro in the kitchen. The smell of bonito fish and miso wafted from the kitchen, Yuki’s excited Japanese curling off her tongue.

Why were all these things so familiar to me now?

Did I really want to leave all this behind?

Chapter 18

After lunch, Yuki squeezed my hand and told me she and Tanaka were going for karaoke. For a minute I swore Tanaka was blushing, but the next minute he looked normal.

“I can’t,” Tomohiro said. “I have to visit a friend in the hospital.”

“I’m going, too,” I said.

“You don’t have to.”

“I know.”

We waved to Tanaka and Yuki in the lobby of the mansion and walked to Shizuoka Station, where we hopped on a yellow-and-green bus bound for Kenritsu Hospital.

Ishikawa was on the second floor, in a room with white walls, a white floor and white sheets. Everything was white, which made his bleached hair fit right in. The only splash of color was the purple ring around his eye, the bruises all over his face and arms.

His shoulder was plastered with wrapped bandages and his arm hung in a funny way around the bulky cloth.

He’d been staring out the window when we came in, but at the sound of our footsteps, he turned his head.

“Oi,” he said quietly. He looked so defeated, like all the strength and fight had been punched out of him.

Tomohiro held out the flowers he’d bought in the lobby; white, like the room.

“Oh. Sankyu, ” said Ishikawa, an English thank you that had been absorbed into Japanese culture. Kind of like I had.