Ink

“Did you hear about Myu?” he said, and our eyes widened.

“How do you know?” said Yuki.

“My sister’s in her homeroom,” he said. “Myu and Tomo-kun split up. She’s crying over her lunch right now, and Tomo didn’t even show up for class.” Tanaka leaned in closer and whispered in a rough tone, “I heard he got another girl pregnant.”

I felt sick. I dropped my peanut-butter sandwich into my bentou and closed the lid.

That curve of stomach under the sketched blouse…

“He did!” Yuki squealed. It was all just drama to them. But I couldn’t stop thinking about the way her head turned, the way she looked right at me.

“It’s just a rumor,” said Tanaka.

“It’s not,” Yuki said. “Katie spied on the breakup!”

“Yuki!”

“Oh, come on, everyone will know soon anyway.” She sipped her bottle of iced tea.

Tanaka frowned. “Weird, though. Tomo-kun might be the tough loner type, but he’s not cruel.”

I thought about the way he’d snatched the paper out of my hands. The sneer on his face, and the curve of his lips as he spat out his words. Don’t you speak Japanese? He seemed like the cruel type to me. Except that moment…that moment where he’d almost dropped everything and kissed Myu. His hand reaching for her chin, the softness in his eyes for just a second before it changed.

“How would you know?” I burst out. Tanaka looked up at me with surprised eyes. “Well, you called him by his first name, right?” I added. “Not even as a senior senpai, so you must know him pretty well.”

“Maa…” Tanaka scratched the back of his head. “We were in Calligraphy Club in elementary school—you know, traditional paintings of Japanese characters. Before he dropped out, I mean. Which sucked, because he had a real talent. We haven’t really talked much since then, but we used to be close. He got into a lot of fights, but he was a good guy.”

“Right,” I said. “Cheating on girls and making fun of foreigners’ Japanese. What a winner.”

Yuki’s face went pale, her mouth dropping open.

“He saw you?” She put a hand over her mouth. “And Myu? Did she?”

I shook my head. “Just Yuu.”

“And? Was he angry?”

“Yeah, but so what? It’s not like I meant to spy on them.”

“Okay, we need to do damage control and see how bad your social situation is. Ask him about it after school, Tan-kun,” Yuki said.

I panicked. “No, don’t.”

“Why?”

“He’ll know I told.”

“He won’t know,” Yuki said. “Tanaka’s sister told him about the breakup, remember? We’ll just slip the conversation in and see how he reacts to you.”

“I don’t want to know, okay? Drop it please?”

Yuki sighed. “Fine. For now.”

The bell rang. We tucked our bentous into our bags and pulled out some paper.

Yuu Tomohiro. His eyes kept haunting me. I could barely concentrate on Suzuki-sensei’s chalkboard math, which was hard enough considering the language gap. Diane had been so set on sending me to a Japanese school instead of an international one. She was convinced I’d catch on quickly, that I’d come out integrated and bilingual and competitive for university programs. And since she knew how much I wanted to move back with Nan and Gramps, she wanted to hit me over the head with as much experience as possible.

“Give it four or five months,” she said, “and you’ll speak like a pro.”

Obviously she didn’t realize I was lacking in language skills.

When the final bell rang, I was relieved to find out I didn’t have cleaning duty. I had a Japanese cram school to go to, so I decided to cut through Sunpu Park and get on the eastbound train. I waved to Yuki, and Tanaka flashed a peace sign at me as he rolled up his sleeves and started lifting chairs onto the desks. Pretty sure that counts as two friends, I thought, and in spite of everything, a trickle of relief ran through me. I headed toward the genkan to return my slippers—I wasn’t going to make that mistake again—and headed out into the courtyard.

School began in late March at Suntaba, and the spring air was fresh but cool. Green buds had crept onto each of the spindly branches of the trees, waiting for slightly warmer weather to bloom. Diane said everyone in Japan checked their cell phones daily to find out when the cherry blossoms would bloom so they could sit under them and get drunk. Well, okay, that wasn’t exactly what she said, but Yuki said a lot of the salary men turned as pink as the flowers.

I was nearly at the gate when I saw him. He slouched against the stone entranceway, hands shoved deep in his pockets. The sun glared off the neat row of gold buttons down his blazer and splayed through his hair, gleaming on the copper streaks.

Yuu Tomohiro.

My footsteps slowed as dread leached down my spine. There was no other way off school grounds; I’d have to pass him. The back of his hand curved over his shoulder, his book bag pressed against his back. He stared straight at me, as if he was waiting for me.

He wasn’t…was he?

Maybe he wanted me to keep my mouth shut about what had happened. But he hadn’t understood what I was saying, right? He didn’t speak English.

His face was turned down in a sour frown, but his eyes shone as he stared at me, like he was trying to figure me out. A bluish bruise was set in his cheek, and the skin looked a little swollen. I looked down first and then straight at him, but I couldn’t stare at him long. Nothing could settle the pit I felt in my stomach, like I was going to be sick.

If he did make that drawing move…No, that was impossible. I’d been tired, that’s all.

I stood there ten feet from the gate, unable to move, squeezing the handles of my bag as tightly as I could. My navy skirt felt short and ugly against my bleached-out legs. I was out of place at this school and I knew it.

Move! Just walk past and ignore him! Do something! my brain screamed at me, but I couldn’t move.

I let out a shaky breath and took a step forward.

He uncoiled from his slouch like a snake, rising to his full height. I wondered why he always slouched when he could look like that, but the thought sent prickles up my neck. He was a jerk anyway, even if I hadn’t seen the drawing move. He’d cheated on Myu, got someone else pregnant and still had the nerve to laugh at it. Except that he looked like he’d been lying that he didn’t care about her. And Tanaka had said he was a good guy deep down.

Must be really deep down.

His shoes clicked against the cement as he stepped toward me, and despite all my common sense, I couldn’t stop shaking. His eyes burned as he stared me down. He was only two feet from me, and now only a foot. I’m sorry, was I the only one at the school who worried he was psycho?

His eyes flicked to the ground suddenly, his bangs slipping forward and fanning over his face as he walked straight past me, so close that his shoulder grazed mine. So close that I could smell spices and hair gel, that I could feel the warmth radiating from his skin. The heat sent a shudder through me and I stopped walking, listening to the click, click of him walking farther away.

He’s screwing with me, I thought. Trying to intimidate me or something. Shame flooded through me as I realized I’d let him get away with it. He’d reeled me in, and despite everything I knew, despite drawings staring at me and pregnant girlfriends and humiliating language barriers, I’d still let my heart twist at his gorgeous eyes.

When did I become so shallow? I scrunched my hands deeper into the leather of my book bag, until the zipper dug into my knuckles.

“Ano!” I said to get his attention, squeezing my eyes shut as I said it. The clicking of his shoes stopped. Around us the noisy chatter of other students buzzed in my brain, fading into background noise like ringing in my ears. All I could focus on was the silence that had replaced his footsteps, the sound I imagined of his breathing.

Now what? I wanted to ask why he’d been staring at me, why everything felt off when he was there. And about the drawing, the memory sitting unsettled in my gut. But how could I ask him that? He’d think I was nuts. The limits of my Japanese shoved against me, which only proved his point and pissed me off more. What was I thinking to confront him? And what exactly could I say that wouldn’t make me look like an idiot?

A moment passed, and I heard a single laugh under his breath. Then the click, click, click of him walking away toward the eastern wall. The clicking suddenly sped up, and I turned to look. He ran at the wall, leaping up the stone face and grabbing the branches of the momiji tree above, slipping over the wall and out of sight.

I’d let him do it again, let him tip me off balance for the second time in five minutes. I shuddered with anger as I stared at the branch, still swaying, dusting the wall with maple leaves.

The branch.

I didn’t spend my summers hiking in the woods for nothing.

My shoes pounded against the cement as I raced toward the wall. Students backed out of my way just in time, breaking apart their little groups out of curiosity about what I was about to do next. Slippers were about to take a back seat.

I threw my hands around the tree trunk and pressed my feet against the slippery bark. My book bag clattered to the ground as I reached for the branches, hoisting myself up. Leaves and twigs tangled in my hair, but I climbed higher and higher, until I cleared the wall and the street on the other side came into view.

I scanned the sidewalks for the Suntaba uniform—there, behind the line of salary men. He was combing a hand through his copper hair, his blazer draped over his arm.

“Yuu Tomohiro!” I shouted at the top of my lungs. He jerked to a stop, but didn’t turn around. I stared at the curve of his shoulder blades under the white dress shirt as he breathed in and out slowly.

Then he turned, looking up in slow motion when he didn’t see me on the street.

“That’s right, Tarzan, look up!” I screamed in English. “You’re not the only one around here who can make an exit!” My lungs burned with adrenaline as I watched him stare at me.

I couldn’t help it. The grin spread across my face, knowing I’d beaten him at his own game.

He waited a minute, completely still, and I wondered if he hadn’t understood a word I’d said. Not that it mattered. He’d still get the point. I was the winner.

“What do you have to say now?” I shouted.

Still nothing.

And then he slowly raised his arm, his finger pointed.

“I can see up your skirt,” he said.

Oh god.

I’d totally forgotten I was wearing my short uniform skirt.

Crap, crap, crap!

I twisted to look down at the ring of students gathered around the tree trunk. They were starting to giggle, and if they hadn’t been looking up my skirt before, they definitely were now.

A couple of squealing girls reached into their bags. They better not be bringing out cell phones to immortalize my humiliation.

I let go of the branches with one hand to press my skirt tight against my legs. I turned back to look at Yuu. He was smiling, beaming even, like this was some sort of amusing moment we were sharing. Like it was just the two of us. And worse, the smile made my stomach twist. Then he beat his fists against his chest a couple times Tarzan-style and turned, walking out of sight.

My fingers tightened around the branch. Why did he act like two different people? A giggle from below and my anger surged up again.

All right, Mr. Creepy Sketch Guy. You want war?

You’re on.

The maze of Sunpu Park calmed me down a little. It always did, with the twisting hedges and the murky moats in deep channels. An old castle towered over the eastern side of the park, but I didn’t see much of it on my way home. I headed south over a long concrete bridge above the water teeming with koi, and then twisted past the underground walkways to Shin-shizuoka Station.

I scanned my pass, and the little metal doors slammed into the sides of the barriers to let me through. I walked slowly to the platforms, my eyes squinting at the signs of scrolling kanji. The train was coming in three minutes, so I sat on one of the light blue benches and rested my bag on my lap.

I noticed a twig caught in the wool of my skirt, and I pulled it from the fabric.

“Why did I do that?” I groaned, slumping my chin on my bag. As if fitting in wasn’t hard enough, I had to go and climb a tree to yell at a boy and flash my underwear to half the school population.

Maybe I should be sick tomorrow.

A group of girls suddenly rushed in front of me, laughing as they punched out texts on their cell phones. One of them tripped over my foot, and her friends caught her by the shoulders as she stumbled.

“Sorry!” I burst out, tucking my feet as far as I could under the bench.

The girl looked at me for a minute, and then the three of them shuffled away, mumbling loudly to each other. Their green-and-blue-tartan skirts showed me they were from a different high school, so why should I care if they were being snobby? I wanted to stick my tongue out but stopped short. It was too much—I didn’t fit in at school, and I couldn’t even blend in at the train station. How the heck was I supposed to survive here anyway? Without Mom, without anything familiar. The tears started to blur in my eyes.

I heard a muffled greeting as a boy called to the girls. They didn’t answer him. Typical. Rude bunch of—

He said hello to them again. They still didn’t answer. What was their problem?

“Domo,” he tried again, and this time I looked up.

His dark eyes caught mine immediately. He had black hair that flopped around his ears, with two thick blond highlights tucked behind them. His bangs trailed diagonally across his forehead, so they almost covered his left eye. A silver earring glinted in his left ear as he nodded at me.

Wait. He’s talking to me.

“Hi?” I managed. It came out like a question.

He smiled. He wore the same uniform colors as the girls—a white dress shirt and navy blazer, a green-and-blue tie and navy pants—and he leaned against the pillar near the bench. His body was turned away from the clique, and they seemed a little pissed that he was talking to me. From the smile on his face, I wondered if that was the point.

“You go to Suntaba?” he said, pointing at my uniform.

“Yeah,” I said.

“You must speak Japanese well, then.”

I smirked. “I wouldn’t say that.”

He laughed and walked toward me. “Can I sit?” he said.

“Um, it’s a free station.”

“What?”

“Nothing.” Okay, so when did hot guys from other schools start trying to pick me up on train platforms?

He leaned in a little, so I leaned back.

“Don’t let them get to you,” he mumbled. “They’re just airheads anyway.”

“Them?” I said, looking over at the girls. They pretended they weren’t staring, which only made it more obvious.

“Yeah,” he said.

“It’s fine,” I said. “I’ve been through worse.”

He laughed again. “Rough day?”

“You have no idea.”

“Jun!” one of the girls squealed at him—an ex he was trying to make jealous, maybe? He leaned in closer and winked like we were coconspirators. And then a little chime flooded the station, and the train roared past, the brakes squealing as it slowed.

I grabbed my bag from my lap and we lined up by the giant white arrows on the floor. The cars opened up and we filed in. I grabbed the metal rail by the door so I could make a quick getaway at Yuniko Station. It’s not like I didn’t appreciate attention from Jun the ikemen—and was he ever gorgeous—but I just needed some space to myself to think.

The doors closed behind us and the train lurched forward. But in the crowds outside the window, I saw a tall figure in the Suntaba uniform. With copper hair and a puffy bruise on his cheek.

I stepped back as the train jolted, nearly knocking me over. It pulled slowly out of the station, barely moving along the platform.

“You okay?” Jun said behind me.

Impossible. Why would Yuu Tomohiro be here when I’d watched him walk the opposite direction? He looked different when no one was watching, like his features had softened. He waited in line for a Roman bus, emerald-green with an old motor that made the vehicle bump around as it idled. When it was his turn to get on, he actually stepped to the side with a smile and helped a gray-haired lady behind him up the steps.

Was I hallucinating again? That did not just happen.

Then I lost his face in the crowd, and the train reached the end of the platform, speeding up as it snaked across the bustling city.

“I’m fine,” I said when I found my voice again. “Just saw a guy from my school over there.” I waved my hand vaguely at the window, but the sight of the bus was long gone.

“Tomodachi?” Jun said. “Maybe koibito?”

I choked. “What? No! We are not friends. Not even close.”

Jun smiled. “You just looked flustered, that’s all.” He tucked a blond highlight behind his ear, rubbing his earring between his fingers.

“Because I’m tired,” I said a little too sharply. “It’s nothing.”

“Ah,” he said, giving the earring a tug. “The rough day you mentioned.”

“Right.”

“Sorry,” he said, dropping his hand into his blazer pocket. In the corner of the train car, the group of girls was still whispering about us. Jun stood beside me, silent as he stared out the window. I felt a little guilty shutting down the conversation, but I couldn’t help it. My thoughts were a tangled mess.

I watched the buildings blur outside the window as the train sped past.

What was I thinking, climbing a tree and yelling at Yuu like that? So much for a fancy exit—I’d just dug a deeper social hole to curl up and die in. And I couldn’t stop thinking about the smile on his face, as if we were in on the same joke. He’d looked harmless enough helping that woman onto the bus.

But that’s not how he’d looked staring at me from the gate.

2

“Okaeri,” Diane said in a singsong voice when I opened the door.

“I’m not saying it,” I said, kicking the toes of my shoes against the raised floor until they slipped off my feet.

“Oh, come on,” Diane whined, appearing around the corner. She’d draped her navy and pink flowered apron over her teaching clothes, and the smell of curry rice wafted from the kitchen. “If you want to learn Japanese, you have to use it all the time.”

“Not interested,” I said. “I’ve been speaking it all day. I need some English right now.” I strode past her and collapsed onto the tiny purple couch in the living room. It was ugly, but definitely comfortable.

“So how was school?”

“Fine.” Other than the part where half the school looked up my skirt.

I picked up the remote and started flipping through variety shows. Bright kanji sprawled across the screen in neon pinks and greens, quoting outrageous things guests said. Not like I could get the joke, of course.

“It’s curry rice again. I got held up with the Drama Club meeting.” Diane stepped into the kitchen and lifted the lid of the pot, the spicy fragrance wafting around the room as she stirred. I flipped the channel, looking for something English to watch, some reminder of the fact that I was still on the same planet.

“And how was cram school?” The rice cooker beeped and Diane shuffled over to turn it off. I leaned back so my head faced the kitchen upside down.

“It was crammy,” I said.

“Could you at least set the table?” She sighed, and then I felt guilty.

“Sorry,” I mumbled. I flipped the TV off and tossed the remote onto the couch, setting plates on either side of the flimsy table.

I hadn’t known Diane much before Mom’s funeral, but she’d never struck me as the motherly type. She’d spent most of the service shoving hors d’oeuvres at everybody with a fake smile, like she was a balloon ready to pop. She’d insisted on my calling her just Diane. I think “Aunt” emphasized the fact that her sister was gone, and made her feel like we were some sort of dysfunctional family, trying to keep going after the fact. Which, of course, we were.

She’d picked me up at the airport with the same over-excitement, waving wildly at me to make us even more of a spectacle. “Katie!” she’d screeched, like this was some kind of fun vacation, like we weren’t terrified of each other.

The bullet-train ride made my ears pop and sting, and once we got to Shizuoka, I stood out even more. There were a lot of gaijin in Tokyo, but in Shizuoka I rarely saw anyone foreign.

Diane lifted the lid of the rice cooker, and steam swirled out, fogging up her glasses. She reached for my plate and paddled the rice on, and then dumped a ladle of curry on the side.

“Great,” I said.

“You mean ‘itadakimasu.’”

“Whatever.”

“So any new friends yet, or are they still being shy?” Diane sat down and mixed the curry and rice together with her chopsticks. I pushed my rice into a sticky mound and dug my fork into a carrot.

Well, let’s see. Cute guy on the train from another school, and annoying senior who has it out for me at my school. But friends? “Tanaka, I guess. He’s Yuki’s friend.” Big mistake. Diane clasped her hands together and her eyes shone.

“That’s great!” she said.

“It doesn’t matter,” I said. “I figure it won’t take too long to settle the whole will dispute. I’ll be in Deep River before we know it.” Diane frowned, which looked almost clownish in her thick plum lipstick.

“Come on, it’s not that bad here with me, is it?”

“Why would it be bad in a country where I can’t even read where the bathroom is?” Speaking was one thing; even writing phonetic hiragana and katakana had come without too much study. But learning two thousand kanji to read signs and newspapers was a slow, grueling process.

“I told you, it’ll take time. But you’re doing great. And you know Gramps still isn’t in the best of health. It’s too much of a strain on them right now, at least until we know the cancer is in remission for sure.”

“I know,” I sighed, pushing my potatoes around in the thick curry.

“So tell me about Tanaka.”

I shrugged. “He’s into calligraphy painting. Tall, skinny, pretty loud when he comes into a room.”

“Is he cute?”

“Gross, Diane.” I slammed my fork down in disgust.

“Okay, okay,” she conceded. “I just wanted you to know that we can talk boys, if you need to.”

“Noted.”

“Do you want some tea?”

I shook my head. “I’ve just got some kanji sheets to write out and some math homework. Then I’m going to bed.”

“No problem. Do your best. Ganbare, as they say.” Diane’s cheerful tone had returned. I rose to take my plate to the sink.

“Like I give a shit what they say.”

“Hey, watch it. You know your mom wouldn’t be impressed with that kind of talk.”

I paused, thinking of Mom. She was always a prude, which is why I was stunned to find out she’d dated someone unpredictable like Dad. Maybe he’d set her on the straight and narrow after he ran out on her. Kind of like Yuu Tomohiro was doing to Myu now.

“Sorry,” I mumbled. “I just had a crazy day.”

“I just…I hope you’ll be a little happier here with me,” Diane said gently. It was about the most serious voice I’d ever heard from her, and I suddenly felt like a jerk. She’d always been the piece that didn’t fit, Mom said, the one searching for herself on the other side of the world. Kind of the way I felt now. And even then she’d opened up her tiny world here for me when I’d needed her the most.

“You’re right,” I said. “I’ll try.” Diane smiled, and I wondered if she realized we were both lost now, adrift together but somehow alone.