Rain

Page 11

“No problem,” she smiled, hoisting her book bag over her shoulder. “I used to be an exchange student in California.”
“Oh,” I said. “That’s great.”
She nodded. “Are you having a good time on your exchange?”
I felt itchy around the neck. Having blond hair meant explaining myself constantly. I was always a foreigner first, no matter what. “Actually, I’m not on exchange. I moved here.”
“Oh! That’s great! Well, it’s nice to meet you.” She bobbed her head in a nod and turned on her way.
“Wait!” I said, and she paused. “Um...can I go in? To Katakou?” The gate seemed ominous somehow, and I wondered if I could get in trouble for going on another school’s property.
“Are you looking for someone in particular?” she asked. A cluster of interested students were hanging around us now, trying not to look obvious as they eavesdropped on our English.
“Takahashi Jun,” I said.
She smiled. “Of course. Our most famous student. Sixth in the national kendo championship last year. You’re a fan?”
“Oh, no, I’m a friend,” I answered, and then I realized what I’d said. Well, it wasn’t like Tomohiro was here, and anyway, I doubted the girl would let me through if I said I was anything less.
“He’s in the music room,” she said. “I can lead you if you want.”
“Music room?” But then I remembered him asking me my favorite composer, saying music was his other passion. “Could you show me? I’d appreciate it. I mean, if you’re not busy.”
“Sure, it’s right this way,” she said, grinning. She looked really pleased at the attention she was getting from the other students for her English skills, but maybe she was just happy to be speaking her second language again. I knew how great it felt when people understood my Japanese. “My name’s Hana,” she said as we walked into the genkan of the school. “Do you mind taking your shoes off?”
“Sure,” I said, pulling my shoes off. I didn’t have slippers here, but the floors were spotless anyway.
“You’re from America?” she asked as we curved down the corridor.
I nodded as I followed her. “Albany,” I said. “New York.”
“Ee...?” she mused to herself. It was a typical answer here—she was just processing what I said and expressing polite interest.
I grasped for something to say. “Your school is really big.” Really, Katie?
“The teachers have an elevator,” Hana said. “But we don’t get to use it. My homeroom is on the sixth floor, you know? It sucks on days when you’re late.”
It was the longest conversation I’d had in English with someone for over eight months, except for Diane and some broken dialogue with Yuki. It felt so strange to be able to express myself completely. I guess I’d always taken it for granted.
“Okay, music room’s in here,” she said, stopping in front of a wide sliding door. “Sometimes he practices in the concert hall, which is at the end of the hall right there.” She pointed to the next set of doors. “But it sounds like he’s practicing in here today.” We could hear the muffled sound of a piano inside the music room.
“Thanks so much, Hana.”
She smiled. “No problem. It’s nice to have a chance to speak English. I miss California. I have to go to juku now, but see you later, okay?”
“Thanks,” I said. “Have fun at cram school.”
She rolled her eyes. “Yeah right,” she smiled, and then she was gone, winding back down the hallway to the entrance of the school.
I listened to the piano start and stop, followed by muffled conversation. I pressed my hand to the cool handle of the door, ready to slide it open. I felt nervous, like I was intruding. But he’d said to come by anytime, right? And if he was busy with a Music Club practice, I could wait in the hallway until he was finished. I just needed to let him know I was here.
The piano started up again, followed by the rich sound of a cello. And then it stopped, a few bars in, followed by more conversation.
Seeing my chance to enter with the least amount of interruption, I slid the door open with barely a sound. But as I stepped into the room, the piano started again.
I stopped, startled by the sight in front of me.
There was Jun, sitting on a dark chair with a cello resting against him, his fingers poised on the strings and on the bow, ready to draw it across. He wore that black bracelet with silver spikes on his wrist. No sign of his cast.
And at the piano, Ikeda, her fingers dancing across the keys.
Chapter 6
They didn’t see me at first. Jun’s eyes were closed, waiting for his cue to join the piano melody. And Ikeda focused on the keys of the piano as she played, swaying her body slightly to the music.
I’d never thought of how they might know each other. It was way too weird to see them being so...so normal.
Ikeda played a long, slow intro, and it was like time stopped. Jun sat completely still, his fingers barely touching the strings. Then Ikeda played a loud chord and Jun’s bow moved, spanning the instrument slowly, the rich sound resonating. And then more waiting and more piano.
Eventually he joined in, and the two played. It was a slow piece, gentle and beautiful, everything I’d thought to be the opposite of the Kami. How could they create such stirring music and yet stalk around Shizuoka at night hoping to build an army to kill Yakuza? It was like some kind of sick joke.
Jun’s arm arced with the bow, his whole body swaying gently as he played. I was more of a dancer than a musician, at least back in New York, but even I could tell he had an incredible connection to the instrument. It was beautiful to watch him play.
The piece swelled, more pronounced, the chords almost angry in their expression. It was then that Ikeda noticed me, when she glanced up from the piano to look at Jun and saw me standing in the doorway. The silence in the music room felt thick and uncomfortable. Jun opened his eyes to see why Ikeda had stopped.
She glared at me. “You.”
“Katie,” Jun said. He smiled, lifting his hand with the bow to tuck his blond highlight behind his silver earring.
“Your cast,” I said, suddenly self-conscious.
“Came off this weekend,” he said. “But I’m not allowed to do anything strenuous for another few weeks. So no tournament, I’m afraid.”
“What are you doing here?” snapped Ikeda. “You’re not supposed to be on school grounds if you’re not a student.”
“Hana showed me the way,” I said, as if that gave me some kind of authority. Maybe they didn’t even know who she was. It was a pretty common name.
“Has something happened?” Jun asked. He bent away from the cello to rest his bow inside an open instrument case.
I looked at Ikeda. What was her problem? So she was possessive of Jun—well, fine. Didn’t she know I was with Tomohiro? I wasn’t some kind of threat. I really didn’t like her looking at me like that.
“I just want to talk,” I lied. No point telling Ikeda what was happening. What if she put Jun up to pestering Tomohiro again?
“You’ll have to come back later,” Ikeda said sharply. “We’re in the middle of practice.”
“It’s okay,” Jun said, gently lowering the cello. “My wrist’s starting to give me trouble anyway.” He lifted his bow back out of the case and unscrewed the bottom to loosen the horsehairs.
“Naruhodo,” Ikeda muttered to herself. Yeah, right. She didn’t believe him, which was fine. I didn’t, either.
“Jaa,” he said. “See you later.”
She closed the fall board of the piano over the keys and grabbed her book bag, walking past me without looking up.
“Jeez, what’s her problem?” I said to myself. But Jun heard me and laughed.
“I think her problem is that you broke my wrist,” he said.
“Valid, I guess.”
“Uh-huh.” He snapped the cello case shut and crouched down to push the heavy container near a wall of instrument cases.
“So you said you played an instrument, but I didn’t realize you meant a cello.” I guess I’d expected something more typical like guitar or piano.
“It’s the deep tone of it,” he said, hunched over the case. He rose and turned to look at me. The blond highlights had tipped from behind his ears and now clung to his face until he tucked them back. His bangs had grown so long over the summer that I could barely see through them to his left eye. “When the bow moves against the strings, I can feel the vibration of it in my heart.”
“You’re really good,” I said. And then, feeling awkward, I added, “You and Ikeda, I mean.”
He smiled, and the room felt too warm. He’d always been striking, but why couldn’t I get over it by now? I was with Tomo, and Jun had issues.
“We’re practicing for the school festival. It was Beethoven, you know. Sonata no. 2 in G Minor. I chose the piece.”
“Nice,” I said. He was passionate about it, I could see that. How could this Jun be so different from the one who’d asked Tomohiro to kill someone? A criminal, but still.
“So,” he said. “You wanted to talk?”
“If you have time.”
He pressed his hands into his pockets and twisted his body from side to side, like he was stretching. He gave me another sweet smile. “I always have time for you.”
Despite all my willpower, I started turning as red as those daruma dolls they sold in the tourist shops. The only thing that helped me regain my normal pulse was how cold his eyes were, like he was always thinking deeper thoughts that he wasn’t sharing. Like I was a kendo opponent he was sizing up. How will she move? How can I counter? It was unnerving.
“Let’s go to the art studio,” he said. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, and I have something to show you.”
I put my hands up in front of me. “You’re not going to draw, are you? I mean, it wouldn’t be safe to draw here.” But he didn’t stop; he just kept walking toward the door. I followed him into the corridor and slid the music-room door shut.
A group of students passed us in the hallway, staring at my different uniform. I wondered what they must be thinking.
“Oi, Taka-senpai!” they shouted. He waved and they cheered to themselves. “Kakko ii!” they flailed, discussing how cool he was as they wandered down the corridor.
I’d forgotten he was some kind of kendo celebrity.
And then I caught the eye of one of the students. I knew him—he was one of the Kami from that night. I froze.
Jun saw me looking. “He’s harmless. His drawings move, but they don’t come off the page.”
“Oh.” So Jun’s Kami friends weren’t even dangerous after all.
“The Kami were there for support that night,” he said. “In case there was a fallout with the Yakuza or if Yuu had questions.”
He led me up the stairs, endless stairs, until we reached the sixth floor.
“Your school is...really tall,” I puffed.
He whispered conspiratorially, exaggerating his expression. “Sometimes I sneak a ride in the elevator.”
“Daring.”
“I’m a rebel,” he said. “Leading a revolution.”
He’d meant at as a joke, but the comment was kind of true in a creepy way.
He pulled open the door to the art studio. The white tables in the room formed an open square, with a smaller table in the center, probably to put reference objects while sketching or painting. Along the back of the classroom ran cupboards full of supplies, and one wall of the studio was floor-to-ceiling windows. The sun would set soon, and already the light streaming in was golden and diffused. I stepped toward the window, admiring the view from six floors up. The tennis court outside looked tiny and deserted.
I heard the click of the door and looked to see Jun’s hand on the lock.
“So we’re not interrupted,” he said. “We don’t need any more ink sightings in Shizuoka after that dragon Yuu drew.”
“I don’t get it,” I said. “If there are so many Kami in Japan, why are you underground? Why are you hiding?”
He headed toward the supply cabinets and started raiding them, piling rainbows’ worth of paints on the white counters.
“A few reasons,” he said. “One, because most Kami are not as powerful as Yuu and me. Usually it’s just enough to weird someone out—bad nightmares, drawings that flicker. It’s not the kind of thing you want to draw attention to. Kids who do mention it usually get put on meds because they’re ‘hallucinating.’ Two, because we have a long tradition of hiding to survive.”
“Tomohiro told me the Kami went underground at the end of World War II,” I said.
Jun tilted his head. “That’s only half-true. The Samurai Kami went into hiding long before the emperor denied lineage to Amaterasu during the war. That was a message to those who knew. It went over everyone else’s heads. No, hiding began with the Kami from samurai families. If you seemed like a threat to the royal family, you were eliminated, so samurai stopped mentioning it. You only hear about the Imperial Kami being descended from Amaterasu, right? Everyone thinks that’s myth now, and they’ve forgotten there are others. And that leads to the third reason we keep quiet. We know the abilities we have would cause mass panic in Japan and the world. People don’t believe in that kind of stuff anymore.” He looked over his shoulder, a paint bottle in each hand. “When the time is right, when the people are assured of the Kami’s right to rule, then we’ll reveal our power again.”