Shadow (3 page)

Chapter Four

Tomohiro

Even with the cold and biting wind, I found Myu on the school roof where we often shared lunch on warmer days. Usually there’d be a few students up here, but the cold weather had forced them into hidden corners of the school to eat their lunches—the home ec tables, the far shelf in the library, the row of harps in the music room that formed a wall of strings. Myu was alone up here, and it was too quiet, eerie.

She stood with her back to me, her fingers threaded through the links in the chain fence around the edge of the roof. The wind tangled and untangled her hair as I stepped closer, watching it dance and whirl around her. She gazed out over the courtyard, almost deserted in the cold.

She was crazy to be out in this freezing wind, even if the sun was so bright I had to shield my eyes. But I liked that about her, when she did unexpected things. Her glittering nails and dangling earrings made her seem fragile sometimes, like something delicate, but then I’d find her standing alone on the roof in a storm, and I’d see the strength in her.

I smirked, just a little. Things were never what they appeared to be, not in my world.

I took another step toward her, my movement hidden by the sound of the wind encircling us.

She’d confessed to me up here that day. Sato and I had come up to the roof to drink our cold milk teas after kendo practice. I remembered throwing the can at him hard that day because I was pissed. He’d brought down a
tsuki
hit that I’d barely dodged, and I hadn’t even anticipated it. It used to be so easy to take him down, but he’d been getting tougher, and somehow while I was busy drowning in the nightmares that haunted me, he’d left me behind and surpassed me.

I’d looked at him, scrolling through his phone for any texts from
them
, any threats they wanted him to make today, any runs or jobs they wanted to send him on. It had started the spring we’d entered Suntaba, and it was getting worse. He was spiraling into his own darkness, and the thing was, he’d chosen it. It wasn’t like me. I didn’t have a choice. Why would you take a normal life and throw it away?

The bitterness had spilled over inside of me as it joined with my frustration from kendo practice.

I
hate you
, I’d thought as I ran my thumb down the cold tea can.
Your life was normal.
You don’t have the nightmares.
You could even be the better
kendouka
if you focused.

I didn’t hate him, not really, but the jealousy was white hot as I pulled back the can, the weight of it sloshing in my hand as I hurled it toward him.

Your life was normal
,
and you fucked it up.

The can smacked into Satoshi’s chest and he curled his fingers around it before it could drop. “
Oi
, what the hell, man?” he said, his deep eyes searching mine. “Save it for when you beat the crap out of Katakou School’s team.” He grinned then, pressing a gentle fist into my shoulder before cracking the pop tab backward.

I remembered the shame that followed.

I
hate you
, I’d thought again, but this time it was myself I hated.

And then Myu had appeared at the top of the stairs, her skirt hiked up short and her nails painted with blue bows or stars or something that sparkled in the sunlight.

She’d stood there for a moment, her hair catching on the wind the way it was now, her eyes locked with mine and a letter in her hands. She’d looked determined, like I was just an argument she had to win.

Another rejection I’d have to make. Another person I’d have to push away.

And something in me had snapped. I wanted to be normal, like Satoshi. I wanted it more than anything.

So I’d said yes when she confessed—yes, let’s go out. And I don’t know which of us had been more surprised.

So much had changed in three months. The nightmares still haunted me, but I didn’t feel as alone. In the daylight, standing here with Myu, I could almost imagine that being normal was possible.

A gust of wind twisted her hair around her bright red-and-cream muffler, and I reached out my hand for her.

Alone on the rooftop together. Romantic or something, right?

But alone on a rooftop with me could be deadly. That’s what happens when you’re marked. I was drowning slowly, drop by drop.

I didn’t want to live in shadow anymore. I didn’t want to push her away.

I rested my hand on her muffler, her tangled hair soft against my fingers.

She whirled around. “Yuu-chan.”

“Myu,” I said. “What are you doing out here?
Sa-me zo
.” I tucked the knit muffler tighter around her neck.

“It’s cold,” she agreed. “I was just thinking. About us.”

Oh
,
great
.

“What about us?” I said, wrapping my arms around her. She didn’t move away, so I figured it was a good sign.

“Are you...is everything okay with us?”

How could it be fine when I was less than human?

But I wanted it to be fine. God, how I wanted it to be fine. Myu put up with my crap—wasn’t that all I could ask for?

“Everything’s fine,” I said. “It’s great.”

She could destroy me now. She could ask if what Sato had said was true. Was I with another girl instead of her? Could I tell her where I disappeared to all those times, or why I didn’t answer my phone?

No. I couldn’t tell her anything.

If she asked, I would be silent, and she would leave. And I would be alone on the rooftop, looming over the world that could never really be mine.

Myu smiled and leaned into me. “
Suki
,” she said.
I
love you.

I held on to her, looking out at the emptiness of the courtyard.

Is this what love is?
Because if she lets go of me
,
I
will gasp and sputter and drown.

There will be nothing left of me but emptiness.

Chapter Five

Katie

So this was what my life had become.

I sat on the bed, not even bothering to raise the blinds. The
light from outside only emphasized the features that reminded me this room
wasn’t mine. Bright red walls, posters of bands I didn’t listen to, a black
dresser with a graveyard of torn stickers littering the top. Linda’s daughter
Jess had started university in September—Linda had barely made the drive back
across the country in time to help plan Mom’s funeral. And now I haunted Jess’s
room like some kind of ghost, pale and lurking in dark corners.

I remembered the day in July when Linda and Mom were having
coffee in our kitchen, Linda laughing nervously about empty-nest syndrome. “What
am I going to do with all my free time?” She was giggling. Mom had patted her
arm quietly as Linda babbled on.

Mom could always see through people to the real story, see what
was really in someone’s heart, even if they didn’t know it themselves. It made
her a great journalist but a tough mother. She always knew when I was lying, so
there was no point in telling her anything but the truth. We talked over
everything instead, every dilemma that weighed on me, every drama that seemed
huge and crushing and mountainous.

It was funny, looking back on it. Those troubles were
feather-light compared to losing Mom. This was the real mountain looming over
me, and now Mom wasn’t here to help me navigate it.

But I would make it through, right? I was already better, a few
weeks dulling the sting of losing her.

Lying to myself, of course. I was in pieces. What would Mom say
if she were here? Pat me on the arm, pour me another cup of tea.
Talk to me
,
Katie.
You can’t climb a mountain if you don’t look where you’re
going.

Living with Linda was all right for a while. School started,
and everything was back to normal. At first my friends walked on eggshells
around the subject of Mom’s death, a few timid
sorrys
muttered nervously, like they were somehow killing her just
by saying it. But after a few weeks they moved on to the usual high school news,
who was dating whom, the chem teacher’s breakdown in class, the mystery graffiti
in the lunchroom. Only I was trapped in the past, some sort of time-warped
version of myself that couldn’t break free from the grief. Some days I took off
at lunch, tears rolling down my face all the way back to Linda’s. Friends
stopped calling to see if I wanted to do things. They knew I’d end up
blubbering, which is no fun, fair enough, but I couldn’t help myself. I felt
caged in, like I couldn’t grieve. How could I? My life was still in limbo, stuck
at a weird crossroads where the only way to go forward was to rip everything to
shreds again.

I was stuck in this weird room of harsh red and black, the
ceiling sloping in like a tomb and shelves of books that weren’t mine.

A room missing its girl. And a different girl in its place.
Like some kind of changeling.

There was a polite knock on my door, followed by the handle
turning and creaking as Linda tiptoed in.

“Hey, Katie,” she said with a forced smile. “Doing okay
today?”

“Yeah,” I said. We were strangers, really, linked only because
of Mom. And yet she kept the smile on, even with me sitting on the bedspread
Jess had picked out, the room that was supposed to be empty for her visit back
from college this week.

“You’re making yourself at home in Jess’s room, right?” she
said, her eyes falling on my suitcase still in the corner. “You might feel
better if you unpack, you know? Her dresser’s empty. And you know you can read
any of her books if you want, okay?”

“Thanks,” I said. I’d peeked at her books my first week,
feeling like a bit of a snoop. All epic space adventures and murder mysteries.
Reading about space only made me feel confined; murder mysteries only filled my
thoughts with death. The redness of blood and the blackness of space, echoed by
the paint colors in her bedroom, stifling as they tried to absorb me and make me
fit.

They couldn’t. I was just too different.

“If you want me to move my stuff for Jess’s visit—” I started,
leaping to my feet like I was going to start clearing out right away. But all I
had was a small pile of books beside the bookshelf and my bulging suitcase in
the corner. It was kind of pathetic, really.

“That’s okay.” Linda smiled. “You barely have anything to move.
And anyway, Jess will take the couch for now.”

“But it’s her room,” I said. The wider Linda’s smile, the more
intrusive I felt. We both knew I was in the way.

“No worries,” she said. “She’s a big girl, and she’s only here
for a few days. She’s lucky I haven’t turned her room into some kind of yoga
studio or something. Maybe I’ll talk to her about letting you paint it something
else. That red really makes the room look so much smaller.” Like changing the
color would make me fit, but it was sweet of her to try. “Um, have you changed
your mind about the Japanese class starting tonight?”

The mention of it sent my heart pounding. I couldn’t face it.
Starting a new life meant admitting Mom was gone.

“Maybe,” I said. “But I-I’m not sure if I can.”

“Okay,” Linda said gently. “But I just think...” She looked at
my face, and I must’ve looked like a wreck because her eyes softened and she
backed out of the room. “I’ll check with you later, okay? Think about it.”

“Sure,” I said, and the hallway swallowed her up. Just me
again.

I collapsed back onto the bed, staring at the sloping ceiling
above me.

“I can’t,” I said to the stucco. “I can’t stay here.”

The house was too small for a charity project like me, and I
wasn’t helping with the skipped classes and creepy emo lurking I did in Jess’s
room. Some days it was all I could do to get up and brush my teeth. I was
skipping more and more classes, falling further behind. I could see it looming
in Linda’s eyes—
the talk
, when she’d have to
politely remind me that dropping out of school was only hurting myself. I could
see it in her face, that she felt like she was letting Mom down every time I cut
class.

I was struggling, but she didn’t know how to help me. I was
some foreign thing dropped in her lap, and she was as lost as I was.

Tell yourself the truth
,
Katie.
Look at that mountain.
Size it up
,
or you’ll never
climb it.

It was time to face the truth. Staying with Linda wasn’t a
choice. I was a puzzle piece crammed in the wrong box.

Japan couldn’t be any worse than this, right? I reached for the
travel guide at the bottom of the stack of books I kept beside Jess’s cluttered
shelf. The pages were worn with all the tearful nights I’d spent flipping
through. Diane lived in Shizuoka, which wasn’t featured at all on the glossy
photo pages. About an hour outside Tokyo, its claim to fame was the fields of
tea surrounding the city for harvest. That and a great view of Mt. Fuji,
although the book featured a view from Kamakura so I couldn’t be sure.

I didn’t know if I had it in me to go to the Japanese class.
I’d set the bar pretty low the past few weeks—I bet Linda wasn’t even expecting
me to make it to the front door. I reached for the required textbook and cracked
open the spine.

“Holy crap,” I said, staring at the foreign squiggles and
lines. Three writing systems—two phonetic and one made up of ancient Chinese
symbols called kanji. It said I needed to know thousands of the symbols to read
a newspaper. I tossed the book on Jess’s bed, crammed between the bookshelf and
her black desk. The shelf was old and rickety, and some nights I swore it would
come crashing down on my head. Death by book avalanche. Not the worst way to go,
I guess.

A minute later, I picked up the book again.

A
-
i
-
u
-
e
-
o.

Maybe I could do this. Maybe I could pick up the shards of my
life and make something with them.

Maybe this was a choice I could make.

I stared at the symbols for hours, sketching them out on my
notebook five at a time, starting with the hiragana. I wrote them over and over,
until my page was a sea of vowels, shaky-handed letters that could spell
anything I wanted them to. A page full of potential, a page full of choice.

The door opened again, this time Linda dangling her keys from
her hand, her pale face worried and hesitant to ask. But she did, after a
moment.

“You ready to go, sport?” she said, jingling the keys.

My fingers curved along the loops of the hiragana I’d
drawn.

“Yeah,” I said. “I’m ready.”