I looked at them, huddling around Jun like a timid goth following. They ranged in age, the youngest maybe twelve and the oldest in his twenties. They all wore the same dark clothes, the same grim look on their faces. Jun stood in front, his lean arms folded across his chest.

“What’s going on?” said Tomohiro.

“Yuu, I want you to know you and Katie are safe here.”

“What are you talking about?” I said. His voice was strange, his eyes gleaming. My heart pulsed in my ears. Something was off here. Way off.

“I want to help,” Jun said. “I’ve always wanted to help.”

“I don’t need help,” Tomohiro said.

“You need to trust me,” Jun said, “so I’m going to tell you everything about what happened.”

“You don’t need to tell us,” I said. “I saw the mark on your arm.”

Jun’s eyes widened for a moment, and he loosened his grip around his elbows, rubbing his fingers over his wrist.

“This?” he said, opening his arms to reveal the pale skin on the inside, the welts raised in the kanji for snake. “Yeah,”

he said. “I’m a Kami. Like you, Yuu.”

“You made those snakes,” Tomohiro said.

“Yes.”

“How did you know where to find us?”

“Like I told Katie, we’ve had run-ins with the Yakuza before.”

“We?”

Jun motioned to the group around him.

I looked at Ikeda, lifting the motorbike helmet off her head.

She saw me looking and put the helmet on the ground, pulling back the sleeve of her jacket.

A ribbon of cuts ran up the inside of her arm.

Shit.

“You’re all Kami?”

“Try to understand,” said Jun. “It’s not something to be afraid of, Yuu.”

Tomohiro didn’t answer, but I swore I saw his hands shaking.

“The power you wield—it’s not something to turn away from. We’re descendants of Amaterasu, kin of the imperial family. I know you’re afraid of it, Yuu. But we’ve all had the nightmares. We’ve all seen what you have seen.”

I looked at Tomohiro, but he looked away, his eyes cast down to the gravel. I wondered what kind of horrible visions haunted him at night. I shuddered, remembering the demons and shadows in the Taira painting.

“Some can bear it better than others. Some are more gifted than others. And you are gifted, Yuu. Incredibly gifted. Not many Kami can call on their power without sketching a single line.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You don’t have to pretend with us,” Jun said. “We’ve all seen our drawings move on the page. We can help you.”

Tomohiro’s eyes filled with suspicion. I touched his arm to reassure him. Jun had always been kind to me, and now he’d rescued me again. I knew he could help Tomohiro control the power.

“It’s okay,” I said quietly. “We can trust him.”

“Because he’s your friend,” Tomohiro said, and the way he said it made my cheeks blaze.

“Yeah,” I said. I didn’t feel like explaining myself to him. It was 2:00 a.m. and we’d been kidnapped by Yakuza and freed by Kami. If he was jealous, he could deal with it.

Tomohiro looked at Jun for a moment. “What do I need to do?” he said at last.

Jun smiled. “We can help you, Tomohiro. Or rather, you can help us. We’ve been looking for someone with your ability for some time. So first, we’ll offer you a gift.” He reached his hand out to Ikeda, who shuffled in the pocket of her jacket for a small notebook and pen. Jun took them and walked toward us, placing them in Tomohiro’s hands.

“You want me to draw?” Tomohiro said. “Draw what?”

“Hanchi,” Jun said. “The Yakuza boss. Dead.”

The pen dropped from Tomohiro’s hand and hit the gravel below.

“Kill him?” I breathed.

Jun blinked, tilting his head to the side. “You need to send a message to the Yakuza. You don’t want them coming after you again.”

“Yeah, but—” I started, but Jun held up a hand.

“I’ve never killed anyone before,” Tomohiro said quietly.

“I didn’t even think it was… Can we do that?”

“Go ahead, Yuu,” Jun said. “The honor is yours.”

“Honor?” Tomohiro’s voice was shaking. “What honor is there in killing a man on paper?”

“You show a lot of mercy to the man who kidnapped you and Katie,” Jun snapped, and I saw Tomohiro flinch as Jun used my first name. Jun tucked his blond highlights behind his ears with force; he was getting frustrated. His eyes were dark pools of ice. “You think he would’ve shown you the same kindness? He’s been responsible for lots of deaths. As a Kami, you can exact judgment.”

Tomohiro dropped the notebook on the ground, disgusted.

“I’m not killing someone,” he said.

“Jun, that’s excessive,” I said. “What’s the point of killing someone?”

“I think you’ll see, in time,” Jun said. “The world is crying out for the judgment of the Kami.”

“What does that even mean?” I said.

“Japan was ruled by Kami a long time ago,” Jun said. “The major samurai families of Heian Japan? Almost all Kami.

Some were stronger than others, like me and Yuu.” I glanced at the kanji engraved on Jun’s arm. He didn’t even use paper or a pen to control the ink—what was he capable of? “The world’s falling apart, decaying before our eyes. The Yakuza are spreading across the country, spilling into other parts of the world—is that a world you want to live in? We’re destined to take it back, Yuu. We can rule Japan like gods, like the kami once did.”

“Are you crazy?” Tomohiro said. “Rule Japan? What the hell are you on, Takahashi?”

Jun laughed, but there was no humor in his voice. “I’m de-claring war on the Yakuza,” he said. “But war requires weapons. I’ll make them all pay for what they’ve done. They’ll beg forgiveness at my feet or I’ll wipe out every last one of them, whatever it takes until Japan is safe. The Kami will reclaim our place as rulers, the way it used to be. The ink wants blood. It always wants blood. Yours, or someone else’s.

Let us help you.”

“I told you,” Tomohiro snapped. “I don’t need h—”

“Stop acting like you’re human!” Jun spat. The comment stung me, and Tomohiro stumbled backward like he’d been slapped. “You think you’re so much stronger than your Kami blood? You think you can go around life with a blowtorch and it’s okay because you have a little candle snuffer? Wake up, Yuu! Before you hurt someone.” Jun looked directly at me. “Before someone gets burned. You’re a weapon, and you have to decide which side will wield you.”

I wanted to punch him. What the hell did he know about us? I’d seen the control Tomohiro had, the way he scratched out his drawings in time. But the image of the wagtail dropping midflight flashed in my mind, the horrible way it had attacked the other birds. I thought about the way Tomohiro’s eyes grew vacant when he sketched, how I’d pinched him and he couldn’t stop. How I lost him, how he couldn’t hear me.

The scars climbing his arm, the dragon spiraling into the sky.

“Stop acting like you’re normal,” Jun said, his voice softening. “The blood of Amaterasu runs in your veins.” He stepped forward, extending his hand. “You can be a prince in the new world we’ll create. Once we take control of Japan, with the emperor as our puppet, we’ll rule like we did before. We’re marked for this. You’re more than human, Yuu.

You’re superior.”

“Superior?” Tomohiro whispered. He hunched over, clutching his hand to his heart. I heard a splotch and looked down. Ink carved down his arms and dripped onto his sneakers. “Superior?” he said again, his voice trembling. “How can this be superior? My own sketches try to kill me. My dreams hunt me down. Being a Kami took my mother’s life from her, and it took my mother from me! How the hell is that superior?”

“We’ve all lost something. But it’s time to stop running from who you really are.”

“That’s it, then,” Tomohiro said. Splotch, splotch. “Destined to take over Japan, no matter the price, no matter the blood?

So this normal life I’ve tried to create—it’s all an act. I’ve always known. Always known what I really was.”

“Gifted,” said Jun, stepping forward again.

Tomohiro shook his head, his whole body heaving with every breath.

“Evil.” He looked up, a darkness in his eyes.

“Tomo,” I said, but icy fear tingled in every part of my body.

“I’m a monster,” he said, raising his hand to point at Jun,

“and so are all of you.”

“The human in you fears the Kami that f lows in your veins. Once you stop struggling, things will be easier.”

“I’ll fight this as long as I live,” Tomohiro hissed.

“And if you hurt others in the process?”

Silence.

“What’s a guilty man’s death compared with many innocents’?”

“Because!” Tomohiro shouted. “It’s not my choice to make!”

“You’re still talking like you’re not a Kami,” Jun snapped back. “It is our choice. It’s our responsibility to protect them.

When others get hurt because of your inaction—what then?”

My body tensed, looking for some way out, some way to end this. But doubt pressed against me. The kanji for sword, the dragon, the gun—they’d all tried to kill Tomohiro. What if he really was so dangerous he was unconsciously trying to stop himself?

What if he—the ink— What if it killed me, too? It was already seeping into my life in every way possible. What if—

I swallowed, my throat so thick I could barely breathe.

“What then, Yuu?”

“Then it’s better if I’m not alive.”

It’s worth my life, but it isn’t worth yours.

“You can do so much more with your life,” Jun said. “Don’t settle for this. Don’t let it haunt you.”

In the breeze I could hear a whisper of that voice again, that gathering noise like a million voices talking at once. It was the same voice that had taken him over when we’d faced Ishikawa and his thugs. The sound was overwhelming, moans of pain and cries for help, animalistic screeches and overlap-ping voices. Monster, they said. Demon. Murderer.

“No!” Tomohiro cried out and fell to his knees, hands clutched over his ears. He could hear it, too, like high-pitched feedback that bounced around inside your head. Only, the way he writhed, I knew that whatever I was hearing, his was tenfold.

My mind reeled. I had to stop this torture for him.

I stared at the motorbikes, useless with the castle doors closed. And then I spotted Tomohiro’s kendo bag, its white zipper gleaming in the moonlight.

I stooped over, grabbing the pull with shaking hands. I rummaged through the bag, the smell of worn leather filling every breath, the armor slipping across my palms as I searched.

The smooth touch of bamboo as my hands closed around the shinai.

I wheeled around, the others watching me with confusion.

I stepped in front of Tomohiro, swung the shinai forward and pointed it at Jun’s throat.

“Leave us the hell alone,” I said.

“Katie,” he said, lifting his arms in front of him. “What are you doing?”

The shinai shook in my hands as I tried to hold it steady.

Jun stepped toward me. “We’re trying to help.”

“The hell you are.”

“Tell me you’ve never felt afraid of him. Tell me he’s never endangered you.”

My cheeks flushed red. “You don’t understand anything!”

I shouted. I swung the shinai at him and he leaped back.

“And you think you do? How long have you known him, a few months? Do you have any idea what Yuu is capable of?

Does he?”

Splotch, splotch. Only, now the ink was dripping onto the gravel from Jun, spreading across his back into feathered black wings. The ink dribbled down Jun’s arm and pooled in the palm of his hand. It stretched out on itself, building like an icicle of ink until it was as long as the shinai in my hand.

“I didn’t want to involve you in this. I wanted to protect you. Can you expect the same from him?”

“Shut up!” I snapped. “You’re the same as the Yakuza. You just want to use him, too!” I pushed off the back of my foot and swung the shinai at him. “Do you hear how crazy you sound? You’re just thugs trying to take over Japan!” My kiai shout rang in my ears. It was so loud I could barely believe it was my own voice.

He lifted his ink shinai to block my attack, and the force of the block pushed me backward. Ink splattered onto both of us, sprayed across the ground like dark blood.

Jun’s eyes flashed. “I’m not the same as the Yakuza. They can all rot and die.”

“Jun,” called out Ikeda, but he threw his hand back to them.

“No one touches her,” he said. Then to me, “Katie, please.

Don’t fight this. We’re on the same side.”

I circled him, but the other Kami backed up. He held his shinai ready, moving faster through the stances than I could.