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and I’d become this nervous around him again? Must not think about his body pressed against mine. Must not think about how good he smells, like vanilla and miso.
    And then he pressed his lips against my neck, and my thoughts exploded.
    “We can figure it out without Takahashi,” he mumbled, his words tickling as they vibrated against my skin. “I’ve lived my whole life like this. Marked, stained, however you think of it. It’s not going to go away. I’m not normal, Katie. I can never be normal.”
    You don’t have to be normal, I thought. You just have to be in control, so no one gets hurt. Especially us. But the words never made it to my lips. I wished we weren’t on the train, that we weren’t surrounded by a hundred people pretending not to see him kissing my neck. I wished we could be alone in Toro Iseki, surrounded by furin and wagtail birds and a starlit sky. But we could never be there alone again, not with his drawings around us. Things would never be the same now that renovations at the site were done.
    Shin-shizuoka was the next station and we stumbled out of the train, hands entwined. Tomo walked me the whole way to Diane’s mansion—my mansion, I reminded myself. There was no time limit now. This was home, as long as I wanted it to be.
    Tomohiro grasped both of my hands.
    “I have to go,” I said. “It’s getting late.”
    “I know.”
    “It would be easier to leave if you let go of my hands.”
    “I know.”
    “Tomo.”
    “You’re really here,” he said, giving my hands a tug so I stumbled forward. “I have to protect you. I can’t let anything happen to you.”
    “Me, too,” I said. “I’m here to fix things, so don’t worry, okay? I can take care of myself.”
    “Call me if the Kami or the Yakuza try to contact you. And I need to tell you something else.”
    “What?”
    He looked away, his face pained. “I’m going to stop drawing.”
    “I thought you couldn’t.”
    “I’m going to try,” he said. “No more sketching. It’ll eat me alive, but if you’re going to be here, I can’t risk it. Just notes at school.”
    His fingers felt so warm laced with mine. “But your drawings mean so much to you.”
    “Yeah, so much they bite and claw at me. Don’t forget the gun that shot at me.”
    I shuddered. “Let’s try to get the ink under control, okay?”
    “Katie,” he said, his mouth a grim line. “Do you think I set off the fireworks tonight?”
    Yes.
    “I don’t know. But I do know that if I don’t get in that door soon, Diane will sit me through a whole other set of fireworks and she may never let me come out again.”
    Tomohiro laughed. “ Wakatta . I get it. Good night.” He leaned over to kiss me, and the warmth of it threatened to knock me over. Suddenly meeting Diane’s curfew didn’t seem to matter at all.
    Tomohiro’s hands slid down my arms to my hips, pulling me closer. He made a gentle noise deep in his throat and every nerve in my body tingled with the sound of it. I clung to him as I kissed him, and his fingers threaded into my hair. This was the welcome home I’d waited for.
    Something papery and sharp smacked into the back of my hand, and then again. Like sharp bugbites they pierced every patch of bare skin—my feet, my wrists, my ears. I pulled back from Tomo and stared. Cherry petals made of ink lifted off my yukata, leaving behind areas of pristine and unstained fabric. The shadowy cloud of flowers swarmed around us like black flies, whipping against us over and over like we were at the center of a dark hurricane.
    “Ow!” One of them nicked my finger and a drop of blood oozed from the cut.
    Tomohiro swatted the petals like bugs and they fell, shriveling on the ground around us until we were surrounded by a wreath of crumpled blackness. Slowly they melted into an oily sheen, clouds of golden dust catching the light like dim fireflies. The ink, lashing out at us like it always did.
    “Sorry,” he panted. “I... Maybe I should go home