We left the doors of the NEX and stepped onto the platform. The air smelled musty like train stations do, and I followed Diane quickly through the thick crowds. A tune chimed from the speakers followed by a steady stream of polite Japanese—some sort of train announcement, I guessed.

Everywhere there were men in business suits and teens in school uniforms. All the boys in blazers and dress pants, the girls in pleated skirts.

That’s going to be me, I thought.  I’m going to wear one of those.

One student passed me, a white mask over her mouth and hooked over her ears like she was a hospital patient. Weird. We kept walking, and then a businessman passed by with one on.

“What’s up with the masks?” I said.

“Huh?” Diane said. It wasn’t even foreign to her anymore. “Oh, those? It’s a courtesy because they have a cold. They don’t want to spread the germs, you know?”

“Seriously?” I guess it was a nice gesture, but it was strange to see them walking around like they were fresh from an operating room or something.

Another happy tune chimed as I tripped over a thick strip of yellow plastic bumps.

“So what about all the songs?” I said. “And the bumps?”

Diane smiled. “The chimes make the announcements more pleasant, right?” she said. “And the bumps are to help the blind get around. You’ll get the hang of it, Katie. It’s a lot all at once. Are you hungry?” She stopped at a kiosk, breaking into rapid Japanese that I couldn’t follow. If I couldn’t even understand Diane, I was definitely doomed.

I tried to listen to the announcements as I waited for her, concentrating to hear any words I knew. Okay, got a particle. Got a past tense marker. But nothing concrete. I couldn’t grasp a single full sentence. They could be announcing Godzilla was about to smash the station into pieces and I’d be the only one who hung around and got crushed.

I was completely helpless, like some kind of little kid. I hated the feeling.

Diane came over a minute later and pressed a green triangular thing wrapped in plastic into my palm.

I turned it over, staring at the kanji on the label. “Um,” I said. “Thanks?”

“Onigiri,” she said patiently. “Rice ball wrapped in seaweed. Well, rice triangle I guess. It’s got salmon inside.”

I clung to Diane’s side as she led us through the noisy station. I felt like the stupidest person in the world. Who was I kidding to think I could live in Japan? It felt like I’d dropped off the face of the earth. Was this even the same planet?

I unwrapped the onigiri, taking a cautious bite. The seaweed crinkled like paper and the cold rice stuck to my teeth. Not awful, but strange. Everything was strange.

The Shinkansen was way worse than the NEX. The train sped along at something like a million miles per hour, which is the speed that makes your ears pop and sting like they’re going to fall off.

“Thank god we’re only going an hour out of Tokyo,” I said, and Diane frowned a little.

“Do you want me to get you a drink from the trolley when it comes past? It might help.”

I shook my head, remembering the bitter taste of the green bean tea on the plane. “I’m okay.”

She shrugged and reached into her purse, unwrapping a candy for me.

“Strawberry milk,” she said, pressing it into my hand.

“Strawberry milk? What kind of flavor name is that?” I looked at it suspiciously, but popped it into my mouth anyway. The world turned pink and sweet.

“Good, right?” Diane laughed. “Wait till you try the yuzu ones. You’ll forget lemons ever existed.”

I stared out the window until we pulled into Shizuoka Station.

“Why are the buildings all so short?” I said.

“Earthquakes,” Diane said. “You know, for safety.”

“Oh.”

I followed her, groggy from all the travelling.

“We could walk from here, but with the suitcase we’ll want to catch the bus,” she said.

I gazed at the ground while we waited, pulling my peacoat tighter around me to keep out the chill. We hopped on the yellow-and-green bus from the back door, Diane carrying my bag through the crowd. I could barely look around or even make small talk. I’d seen enough—my tired brain was saturated. After a few stops, Diane shoved some yen in my hand and nudged me forward. The five yen coins had little holes drilled through the middles of them. I tipped the coins into the slot by the driver and stepped out the front door.

Starting at the back of the bus, ending at the front. Life in reverse. Why not? Everything had turned on its head anyway.

Shizuoka had these elaborately painted manhole covers and I stared at them as we walked from the bus to Diane’s apartment.

“Mansion,” she corrected, but I was too tired to ask, just gazed at the chalklike drawings on the sewer covers as my suitcase bumped over them. Mt. Fuji in whites and blues, cherry blossoms in pinks and greens. Some weird temple with a samurai and a yellow sunset behind him.

“Here we are. Welcome home,” Diane smiled.

I looked up. It was a modern-looking building with tiny concrete balconies centered like giant steps up the five floors. The glass doors slid open as we approached the lobby, a giant chandelier hanging from the ceiling and rows of steel boxes stretching the length of the room.

“Mailboxes,” Diane said, walking across the marble floor and toward the elevators.

I’m clueless, I thought. So much for language. I don’t even know the context.

We rode the elevator up to the fourth floor, where a pale green door led into whatever home awaited me. Diane smiled nervously, like even she didn’t know what was in store.

As she opened the door, the burst of cold whisked past me.

“Jeez,” I said, wrapping my arms around myself.

“Sorry,” Diane said, flipping the light switch on as she stepped into the foyer.

“Why’s it so cold in here anyway?” I said, closing the door behind me and clicking it shut.

“No central heating in most of Japan.”

My jaw dropped. “Are you serious?”

“It’s not so bad,” she said. “At least you’re here in February. It’ll get warmer by the day. And you’ll be happy to know the previous owners left their kotatsu table.” She motioned toward the small living room. Beside a tiny crime-against-fashion-purple couch stood the table, encircled by a thick gray blanket. “The table has an electric heater in it,” she said. “So you sit under the futon and get snug. The futon comes off for the summer, of course. Then it’s just a glorified coffee table.”

“Wow,” I said. “All the same, I think I’ll keep my coat on for a bit.”

“Sure,” Diane chuckled. “Want to see your room?”

Yes.

No.

Sleep. I needed sleep. It was all too much. The dull buzzing came back, my blood pulsing, the taste in my mouth sour.

“I’m so tired,” I said.

Diane nodded. “It’s the middle of the night for you,” she said, and she pushed open my door.

Unlike the rest of the house, the room was traditional, the floor woven with tatami mats and an alcove set in the wall displaying some kind of wall scroll and the scrawniest of fake bonsai trees. A Western-style bed had been placed on some special mat and pressed along the side of the alcove, taking up half the space in the tiny room. A cheery pink comforter lay over the bed, with a tiny glass coffee table beside it, low to the ground and covered with the inventory of my new life—an electronic Japanese dictionary, a vase of purple flowers, an intro package from the cram school I’d start attending on Friday and a pair of red-and-white Hello Kitty slippers. A desk had been shoved in the other corner by the window, beside a tiny dresser and bookshelf.

It was small and crowded, but the effort was obvious. And on top of it all, Diane’s only electric heater rested beside the head of the bed.

Diane shifted from foot to foot, looking at the floor.

“Let me get you some towels,” she said, rubbing the back of her head as she went, shy about the effort she’d made with my new room. It was a sweet gesture. It was.

I stared at my new room, but exhaustion was taking over.

This was my new life, no matter what happened.

Face that mountain, Katie. Size it up.

But I wasn’t sure if I could.

Chapter Ten

Tomohiro

The dream started in darkness, like so many of them did. There was no beach, no cloud of shadows chasing. For once I’d wanted to relive that nightmare, to ask my questions about Taira the Demon Son. Not that I would’ve been able to change anything for sure. I usually realized it was a dream too late to do anything useful but wake up.

A faint sense came over me that something wasn’t quite right. It was the fleeting thought that I was dreaming, but I couldn’t be sure. My mind felt sluggish, like it was too much effort to put together the pieces.

At first there was nothing but darkness, an isolation so intense that claustrophobia soon followed. A flicker of blue light lit the crumbling brick walls around me.

Then the whispers started.

God, the whispers. Like a whole bucket of ice cubes tossed down the back of my shirt. Sometimes they swelled into moans, deep and horrible cries of pain, always talking over each other in swells like waves. And the footsteps that clicked like wolf claws on cement. Only they weren’t wolves, I knew. The beasts circled closer and closer, ready to gnaw my flesh off the bone. I shuddered. It was a labyrinth of brick, and I had no way to tell if the demons were really close or not. The fear was sharp, an intense pain I couldn’t ignore.

“You are marked,” said a woman’s voice, and I jumped back against the jagged mortar crumbling on the wall. “You are chosen.”

“Stay away from me,” I said to the darkness as I backed into the corner. But suddenly the hot breath of the woman was in my ear.

“There is only death,” she said, and I stumbled forward. Her plain white kimono was pale in the blue light. She fused into the shadows and vanished.

I heard snarling, scraping. One of the beasts, trying to dig under the wall. He slammed his body against the other side and bits of brick crumbled to the ground. I could see clouds of dust rising where his claws could almost reach under—sharp claws that would rip me to shreds.

“Help me,” I said, terror taking hold. “I don’t want to die.”

“You won’t die,” her voice laughed. “You will kill.”

I opened my mouth, but said nothing.

“Are you afraid of the inugami? You misunderstand. He’s gone mad with fear. He’s trying to get away from you.”

He was scrambling under the wall because he feared me. He didn’t realize I was waiting on the other side to—to what? Kill him?

“No. I’m just—I wouldn’t...” But suddenly I could remember something horrible. The taste of matted fur and bone, the stench of blood.

It’s not real. It can’t be real. I wouldn’t do that, not even to a demon like the inugami. It had to be a lie, a fake memory. I wasn’t a monster. This wasn’t me.

“You don’t know who you are, Tomohiro. We know.”

I shook my head, but the sound of my name chilled me to the core. I didn’t want her to know anything about me.

“You’re lost. You’ve forgotten.”

My hands squeezed into fists as beads of sweat broke out all over my skin. The sweat trickled down my forehead like blood.

“You’re wrong,” I said.

“We are never wrong.”

And then a second voice echoed in the labyrinth. “Yuu-chan?”

My body went cold. Oh god. Myu. She couldn’t be here. She couldn’t.

“Please,” I begged. “Leave her alone.”

“Yuu-chan? I’m scared!”

The scatter of wolf-beasts, footsteps everywhere.

And then another faint voice.

“Tomo-kun!”

“Shiori!” I cried. I raced into the labyrinth, twisting and turning in the dark paths, until suddenly I slammed into a wall in the dim blue light. My body pulsed with sharp pain as I stepped aside, squinting in the darkness. I staggered forward, my hands in front of me. Walls rose up in the shadows, and I crashed again and again as I raced blindly through the maze, my palms scraped raw and stinging.

“Myu!” I shrieked. “Shiori!” The sound of footsteps and claws echoed from everywhere, meaningless without reference. I didn’t know if I’d find the girls or the inugami around the next corner. My body shuddered with fear, with the anticipation of sharp teeth taking hold.

“You are not like those girls,” the woman’s voice said, and suddenly she was in front of me in her pale kimono.

A scream in the distance, muffled by snarls. Oh god.

“Myu!” I shrieked. I ran forward and grabbed the woman’s shoulders, shaking her violently, desperately. “Leave her alone!” I cried. “Please!”

The woman tilted her head, looking at me curiously.

“It is you who is the threat,” she said, and suddenly it wasn’t the woman I was holding at all but Myu, drenched in ink as thick as blood.

“Myu!” I cried, clutching her desperately to myself. Only she pushed away, flailing against my grip, splattering me with ink.

And then the worst sight in her eyes. The worst thing imaginable.

The truth.

Because there was nothing but fear in her eyes when she looked at me. Fear and disgust. To her, I was the same as the monsters. One of them.

“This is what you truly are,” said the woman’s voice, now behind me, and then there was nothing but darkness and the sound of rushing like a black waterfall, engulfing me, flooding my lungs with ink.