Chapter 23

I leap to my feet and yip out of pure surprise. Yukimi trots to me and touches her nose to mine. She grins like only a vixen can, her tongue lolling. I shut my eyes and inhale her scent with a shuddering breath, my chest brimming with contentment. This is how it used to be. This is what I left behind—me and Okāsan, both of us foxes, with the night wide open before us. My legs feel light, like I can outrun the rising sun.

I point my muzzle to the wind and sniff. No hint of inugami.

Yukimi makes a little “quirk?” noise in the back of her throat. I glance at her eyes, and I know what question she’s asking. We don’t need words, the two of us.

I know how I want to reply.

With a leap into the air, I dart from the alley, my tail streaking behind me. See if you can catch me. She used to have longer legs than me, but I’ll bet I’m faster than her now.

Behind me, I hear small paws drumming on the pavement.

I quicken my pace from an easy run to a headlong sprint, my blood humming in my veins, my legs pumping like a perfect machine. There’s no room for fear or hesitation.

I hurtle down the dark street, starry sky spilling above me, reflected in the skyscrapers of Tokyo. We’re on the outskirts, away from the heart of the hubbub. Out here, dark windows outnumber the light ones, and the streets are free of humans and cars. Mostly free—a man on a bicycle whirs past, then slows as he sees me. I keep pace beside him, glancing into his eyes.

“Hey!” he shouts, a silly grin on his face. “Kitsune!”

I could melt into the shadows, could make him think he saw no more than a mirage on a night when he was sleepy-drunk, but the temptation of mischief is too great.

I slow to a trot, then stand on the sidewalk, twitching my tail like a cat. The man brakes and hops off his bike in a wobbly way. He leans his bike against a trash can and creeps to me in a frog-legged crouch, one of his hands outstretched.

“Come here, little fox,” he singsongs.

I glance at my surroundings, noting my escape routes, noting how Yukimi watches me from the shadows, waiting to see if I haven’t forgotten how a wild fox behaves.

The man’s breath stinks like cigarettes and beer. Judging by the red splotches on his cheeks, I’m surprised he could even stay upright long enough to bike this far. His glossy gaze stays on me as he sidles nearer. He reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a thin stick of something wrapped in paper.

“Here you go.” The man holds it out to me.

I tiptoe nearer and sniff his offering. Minty. Gum? I curl my lip. Clearly this guy doesn’t know any better. He gives me an empty, hopeful smile and shoves the gum closer.

Yukimi skulks a little closer, her eyes sharp with curiosity.

Oh, believe me, I won’t disappoint. I haven’t forgotten my old tricks, and I’ve learned some new ones.

I inch closer to the man’s hand. I crane my neck forward until my whiskers brush the stick of gum, then grab a hunk of my magic and twist it into an illusion. I breathe onto the man’s fingers. He watches me, his wet lips hanging open.

The stick of gum twitches in its silver wrapper. It wriggles and rears in his hand, shaping itself into a tiny serpent. The man’s head jerks downward as he realizes the gum is moving, and the curiosity on his face twists into horrified fascination.

The serpent tastes the air with a gum-pink tongue, then hisses.

“Shit!”

The man flings the serpent-illusion away and keeps shaking his hand like it bit him. He leaps onto his bicycle, almost crashing onto the pavement, and starts pedaling hard. I trot alongside him, just to see the look on his face as he leaves.

I forgot how entertaining this could be.

Claws click on the sidewalk. Yukimi comes to stand behind me and rests her muzzle on my shoulder. I shut my eyes against the swell of pride overflowing from my heart, spilling through my ribs, spreading through my veins as bliss.

Yukimi pulls back to give me a look, her eyes challenging me to another race. The taste of anburojia lingering on my tongue, I follow my kitsune mother into the night.

~

There’s something beautiful about forgetting, about letting your thoughts melt into a wordless blur of scents unwinding on the wind and paws skimming the ground and a belly full of a stolen bite of tofu, of a rice-flour candy given by the ragged woman in the park. In return for the candy, we gave her a blanket, an illusion strong enough to keep her warm through the snowy night.

We linger in the park, a scrap of green in the gray, a nearly forgotten memory of the forest. I can’t help but feel a sharp craving in my stomach, a yearning for the aroma of clear air, of snow that contains no scents but its own wild coldness.

Then Yukimi nudges me with her nose, and we’re running again.

We return to the alley near the Lair as dawn edges the bottom of the sky, gray leaking into black. Faced with the memory of the glittering nightlife of Tokyo, the grime of the alley looks that much grimier. I wait in my fox form, my eyes on the street, as Yukimi makes her transformation back to human.

“It’s late,” Yukimi says.

And by that she must mean early. Not the time for us to be running outside in our fur.

I sigh and squeeze my eyes shut. My pelt clings to my skin and my bones resist bending. I crawl out of my fox body and force myself to become a boy again.

As soon as my fur disappears, I’m dunked in glacial cold. My teeth start chattering like crazy, and I dig my fingernails into my arms like that will banish my goose bumps. I’m shaking from the inside out, but I’m not sure it’s all because of the temperature. There’s a scraping in my stomach, a craving in my gut.

“I think the anburojia is wearing off,” I say.

Yukimi tosses me my jeans. “It will. You have to live with it.”

Of course there would be withdrawal. Of course I would have to return to my human body and start thinking in words again, start remembering why I’m here.

I dress quickly, clumsily, my fingers numb. “That was… fun.” I grimace at how lame it sounds. “That’s not what I mean. It’s been eleven years since we ran like that.”

Yukimi rakes her hands through her feral hair and twists it back into a bun. “Yes.”

“Why…” I study her face but can see no hints of her mood. “Why did you wait so long?”

“You were gone,” she says. “And then you were here.”

I concentrate on lacing my shoes, so that I don’t spook her by looking a little too interested in her replies. “So you could tell I was in Japan. From my dreams?”

Yukimi nods and stands there, finished dressing.

“Do you know where I went?” I say.

“No.”

My fingers have become too stiff to tie my shoes. I bend over my feet, staring at the ground. “I lived in an orphanage, in Hokkaido, for about a year. Then a couple from America came and adopted me. They took me home with them, to Washington. The state, not the capitol. You know where that is?

“Yes.”

I stand in one swift movement and look her in the eye. I catch a glimpse of emotion before she turns away, seemingly more interested in the street, but I know it’s a lie.

“Mom and Dad—my parents—thought you were dead,” I say.

“Understandable,” Yukimi says.

“So did I.”

A cone of light falls from a streetlamp and she walks to its edge, the sharp planes of her face harshly illuminated. A convenient disguise for her expression.

“You will need a name,” she says. “A true name.”

I stand beside her, my heart thudding. “Shizuka was right? That’s how I can survive?”

“All kitsune must be named to become adults.”

I blow out my breath. “Yukimi.” Her name tastes strange in my mouth. “You’re very vague.”

Her teeth flash in a grin. “Am I?”

“If you want to keep me safe,” I say, “I need you to tell me the truth. About everything.”

Her grin vanishes as quickly as it came. “I can’t.”

“Not everything, then.” I’m so close that I could touch her, if I tried. “But at least about my father?”

Yukimi steps away from me, the distance between us filled with shadows so thick I’m not sure I can pass through them without pushing with my hands. Her face has become granite again, her eyes polished amber with emotions trapped inside.

“Your father was not a good man,” she says.

“Was?”

“He doesn’t belong in my life anymore. Or yours.”

I hold my breath, afraid to say something that will silence her again, keep her from sharing her secrets. “But we need his name,” I say, “and his blood. For me to be named.”

Yukimi thins her lips. “That may be difficult.”

“In what way?”

She looks at me as if she’s about to say more, then shakes her head. “I will tell you at a time and place less dangerous than this. For now, we will return to the Lair.”