Authors: Violet Walker
He pulled away and pressed his forehead to mine. I felt his feverish heat seeping into my skin, his nose touching my nose, and his eyelashes against my cheeks.
“I thought I was for a long time,” he said. He was whispering like it was a secret. “A monster. I thought all humans would be afraid of me, and they kept proving me right. Then you… you wanted to paint me. Oji-san can’t really expect me to give that up.”
“I told you, you’re not giving me up.”
“You could come with us.”
I pulled away so that I could look in his eyes. I saw hope in them, and a little bit of excitement. “What?” I asked.
“Japan has great art schools,” he said, holding onto my waist and pulling me in so that we were chest to chest. “In Kyoto especially, but there are others. Art schools that’ll actually let you paint.”
“I –” I couldn’t wrap my head around what he was asking me. “You want me to come to Japan? I don’t speak the language,”
“I’ll teach you,” he replied excitedly.
“But –” I needed to think. There were no chairs in the room for me to sit down on. “I can’t just go to Japan, Daiki – I’ve wanted to go to the Art Institute for my whole life.”
Never mind that I wasn’t enjoying the classes, or the solitude, or the fact that I didn’t belong in New York City with its fancy hairstyles and pretentious professors. Never mind that the Art Institute wasn’t all I’d hoped that it would be. I’d fought long and hard for my parents to let me come to Manhattan and I would be damned if I let the little things keep me from following the dream I’d worked so hard for.
“Life isn’t always what you expect it to be,” Daiki said harshly.
I almost snapped back at him but the image of his parents falling from the sky and burning together stopped me. I ran my hand through his hair again, feeling him lean into my touch despite his anger, and said: “We’ll get through this, I know we will,” I said.
He kissed me then. It was a slow, burning kiss that tasted like goodbye. I took his head in both of my hands and kissed him back, hard. I poured everything I was feeling – all the hopelessness, the frustration, the sorrow – into that kiss. He met me blow for blow, gripping my waist so tightly I thought he would leave bruises. He kissed me like the world was ending. In a way, it was.
I
left Daiki and Ichiru to pack their bags. I’d given them my support and assured Daiki that this wouldn’t mean our relationship was over, but I couldn’t hold onto my feelings any longer. Especially after Daiki had blocked me out of the link. Even after we’d kissed and held each other, he still wouldn’t let me in. I tried not to take that personally.
“He’s hurting,” I told myself as I made the long trek back to my apartment, ignoring the fact that I had afternoon classes and a midterm coming up. I didn’t have the strength to pretend to be interested.
His offer to go to Japan with him had thrown me and I’d answered without thinking. But of course I couldn’t go to Japan… could I? Mama would throw a fit if she found out I was even considering it. The thought of being separated from Daiki made my chest hurt, but I couldn’t just pick up everything and run away with him.
I got back to my apartment and let myself inside, pausing at the half-finished portrait of Daiki in my bedroom. It showed his back and the side of his face, with his huge black wings extended. I’d filled in some of the color over the weekend and now I was trying to decide how to incorporate fire. The sight of that picture, the memory of running my hands down that back, and the knowledge that I might not get the chance to do that again for a long time, made me want to take the canvas and smash it to the ground. I didn’t. Instead, I threw myself onto the bed and let out of huff of frustration.
Rolling over, I pulled my phone out of my pocket and called Mama. It was about time I told her that I was seeing someone. I was dreading her reaction. It wouldn’t have been so bad if Daiki was white, but Mama – bless her – was a walking Texan stereotype. Daddy was just as racist but he was quieter about it.
I held the phone to my ear and listened to it ring.
“Skye Louise?” Mama said, raising her voice slightly as she always did when she answered the phone.
“Hey, Mama,”
“Bless you sweetheart, it’s so good to hear from you,” she said. “Hang on, I’m making jam. How do I put you on speaker?”
I explained and waited until the tell-tale sound of white noise told me that she’d switched me over. “How was your day?” I asked.
“Oh, well, Loretta Freeburn is pregnant again,” Mama replied. I could hear the faint swoosh and click as she stirred her pot slowly. “I don’t know how she stands so many children, but that’s Catholics for you.”
I cringed and gave her a noncommittal hum to tell her that I was paying attention. Finally, when she was done explaining how Catholics breed like rabbits, I told her: “So, I’m making friends,” Which was true before hunters had murdered the only friend I’d made, but she didn’t need to know that.
“Oh, that’s nice dear.”
“And I’m sort of seeing someone,” I added.
“Really?” she said interestedly. “That’s awful soon – you just moved to the city,”
“It’s not serious,” I lied.
“What’s his name, then?”
I took a deep breath. “Daiki Hamada,” I said.
“Oh,” There was a long pause. When she spoke again, her voice was full of forced cheer. “Well, that’s an exotic name,” she said. “Where’s that from?”
“Japan,” I said. “He’s Japanese.”
There was another pause. “I don’t suppose he’s old enough to remember Pearl Harbour?” she asked shrewdly.
“He’s too young, Mama,” I said, suppressing the urge to roll my eyes. “But I’ll bet his grandfather is old enough to remember Hiroshima.”
“Hmm,” I could picture her pursing her lips and leaning against the counter. “Well, I hope you’re careful. Your father might have a few things to say about this.”
I rolled over until I was on my back and pushed my hair out of my eyes. “I think Daddy would get along with him,” I said. “They’re both very… protective.”
She hummed again and changed the subject. I knew that the conversation about Daiki would come up again, and again, but at least my parents couldn’t accuse me of hiding him from them. It would make the fact that I was hiding other things from them much easier.
While she jabbered about her knitting circle, I pulled my laptop out of my purse and pulled up an internet browser. I typed in ‘Japanese art schools’, because it couldn’t hurt to look, right? The first result was a school in Kyoto, the place Daiki had mentioned. It seemed to put a lot of emphasis on different art styles – but not so that they could be used in marketing or design. This was art for art’s sake. Painting, in particular, seemed to be pretty important. I felt my heart quicken as I read through their program.
“… and then Coraline dropped the cake, can you imagine? Made a real mess of the kitchen…”
I scrolled up to the tab that said ‘International exchange’ and, after hesitating only briefly, I clicked on it. The first thing that came up was a picture of Kyoto. It didn’t make my heart sing the way that pictures of New York had before I’d gotten into the Institute, but it was very beautiful. It had character. I could imagine myself living there. I read through the information and felt my eyebrows raising into my hairline. A year at this school would cost a fraction of what Mama and Daddy were paying for New York.
“… of course there’s something to be said for all-American men. Frankly I’ve never trusted foreign mechanics all that much. You can tell they don’t really care about this country…”
My phone buzzed in my ear. I pulled it away, put Mama on speaker and checked the text I’d just received. It was from Daiki. I opened it and realized almost instantly that he hadn’t written it:
Skye, this is Ichiru. Is Daiki with you?
I texted back a quick reply: no. I felt a sudden wave of dread.
“… Jackson’s cattle dogs got into Margaret’s chicken pens again. I swear that woman will shoot those dogs one of these days and then where will that family be?”
“Mama,” I said, cutting her off mid-stream. “Sorry, Mama – I just got a text from a friend. She’s locked out of her apartment. Can I call you later?”
“Of course,” she said. “Your father will be home soon. You can talk to him then.”
I heard the threat in her voice but I didn’t care at that point. I told her I loved her and hung up. Then I called Daiki’s phone.
“Skye?” Ichiru answered.
“Ichiru, is everything okay?”
“Yes, yes, yes,” he replied. I could detect a hint of panic in his voice. “Everything is okay, Skye.”
“Where’s Daiki?” I asked.
He hesitated. “I do not know,” he said finally. My heart sank and I clutched the phone harder. “Can you feel him through the link?”
I tried. I sent out a call, imagining it as a kind of radar, but I couldn’t pick up Daiki. Growling in frustration, I tried again. I felt a faint hum along the link and latched onto it, pulling my mind towards Daiki. I saw a glimpse of him before the image blurred and faded. I pushed harder. My head felt like it was being squeezed in a vice.
I gasped when the image cleared up: “He’s in Concourse,” I said, recognizing the architecture and trees. He was heading towards an abandoned theatre with a look of fierce determination on his beautiful face. I froze, holding my phone against my ear as my breath quickened and a sick feeling of terror curled low in my belly. “I think he’s going for the Ootoris.”
It was like a bucket of ice water had been thrown over me. Of course he’d gone after the Ootoris. Daiki Hamada used to patrol the neighborhood in a vigilante mask fighting muggers and saving people. He’d flown to my rescue when the hunters had taken me. Of course he would take the fight to the Ootoris. He wouldn’t be satisfied just sitting at home, waiting for the hammer to fall.
Ichiru cursed and hung up. The dial tone jolted me into action and I grabbed my purse and ran for the door. I had to get to Daiki. Those hunters would tear him apart!
I hailed a cab at the road and handed a fifty to the cabbie. “Concourse,” I said. “East 197th Street. As fast as you can,” I didn’t even say please.
I must have looked desperate because the cabbie hauled ass, tearing away from the curb and hurtling north. I kept my eye trained on the passing buildings, waiting for one I recognized, sending stop, stop, stop through the link. My desperate pleas went unanswered. Even though I could find him, I couldn’t get through to him.
I felt a sudden, agonizing pain in my shoulder and doubled over, gasping. I reached around and rubbed the area, expecting to feel my hands come away sticky with blood, but there was nothing there. Nothing had hurt me.
“Daiki,” I whispered. He’d been hurt. “Please hurry,” I told the cabbie.
The ride felt like it lasted a lifetime, but it couldn’t have been longer than 20 minutes before I saw the building Daiki had been heading towards.
“Pull over here!” I said.
I leapt out of the cab before it had stopped completely and ran for the theatre, feeling my lungs burn and my heart pound as I threw myself against the front doors. I could hear shouting on the other side.
“Daiki!” I shouted.
I ran around the building, my legs pumping and burning, and found a broken window that was low enough for me to climb through. I gasped as another surge of pain burned through me, catching me in the leg this time, and heard an inhuman screeching coming from inside. Ichiru had beaten me there.
Once I was through the window, ignoring the cuts on my hands from broken glass, I stared around. The lights were out, but there were skylights in the ceiling which illuminated the dusty rows of chairs and ancient red carpets. Then I saw Daiki lying on stage as Ichiru shot balls of fire at the Ootoris. I could tell that Ichiru was running low on power – his fire wasn’t nearly as vibrant as usual. Daiki was shooting fire as well, but he couldn’t do much with Ichiru standing in front of him – protecting him, but obscuring his line of sight. The Ootoris were closing in.
I ran for the stage. Daiki saw me coming and shouted a warning, distracting Ichiru, who barely avoided the crossbow bolt which flew past his head and embedded itself in the splintering wall. Minako shouted an instruction to Hikaru, who began edging around Ichiru to get a clean shot at Daiki.
They were both so focused on their prey that they hadn’t noticed me. I ran past the front row, skidded to a halt, and turned back to see a black bag full of weapons on one of the chairs. The Ootoris must have planned for this; relying on Daiki’s fury and immaturity to lure him into a trap. Hunters loved their traps.
There was a crossbow sticking out of the bag. It was loaded.
I grabbed it, feeling the comforting weight so similar to the shotgun Daddy used to teach me with, and held it up to my shoulder. I carefully took aim at Hikaru’s leg and squeezed the trigger.
The bolt grazed him. He spun around and fired at me, but I threw myself behind one of the chairs.
Skye get out of here!
Oh, now you want to talk?
My crossbow reloaded itself as I heard another inhuman screech – this one laced with pain instead of fury. It vibrated through my bones. I looked over the top of the chair to see Ichiru collapse with a crossbow bolt in his shoulder. Daiki’s mouth was open in a silent scream of horror.
I fired at Minako, grazing her back as Daiki shot a bolt of fire at Hikaru.
For a moment, all I felt from Daiki was pain and fear. Then, I heard his voice: What do we do? He threw another ball of fire at Hikaru while pulling himself painfully to his feet. I realized that there was a crossbow bolt in one of his beautiful wings; another in his thigh.
Break glass in case of emergency, I told him.
Daiki nodded. His eyes blazed with golden fire, and my own eyes burned with an answering heat as I felt power flowing through me. Last time Daiki took control of me, I’d been completely powerless. I could only watch as my body moved without my permission. Now, it was as if my mind had been split in two – one half was seeing the world from my eyes, while the other half saw the world from Daiki’s.
We weren’t two people in two bodies. We were one mind, one soul, shared between two vessels.
Well, that’s a handy trick, Daiki sent through the link.
Then we attacked.