The Gatekeeper's Son (11 page)

Spruce Street was as bare and bright as a dry lakebed. There were no cars, no trees, nothing to hide me. But it didn’t matter. The guys I’d seen were oblivious to me, staggering through the open parking lot behind the coffee shop, toward a back street.

I hesitated. Now that I was here, all alone on the street, I started to question my sanity. I glanced toward the apartments. I wondered if anyone was there, watching and willing to help, but the windows were dark and empty.

A light wind rustled my hair and blew past me, urging me forward. I moved with it, up the block and around the corner where the drunks had disappeared. The street was narrow, lined with cars on one side and a row of low apartments on the other. At first I didn’t see them, but I
felt
something. That tingling in my neck, the whisper of the breeze—then I saw them.

They were hidden in the shadows under a tree, their gaze focused farther up the block, where a girl sauntered along the sidewalk, running her right hand along a hedge, unaware of the danger behind her. Even without the light of the street lamps, there was no mistaking those long white socks and short plaid skirt. It was Shoko.

I glanced around again, let out a sigh, and started up the street. I tried to stay behind the row of trees as I crept toward them. It didn’t matter—they were too busy watching Shoko. As she turned the next corner, the men moved from their hiding spot and stepped out between the parked cars ahead of me. I bolted past them, running flat out.

“Shoko, run!” I yelled in Japanese.

As she spun around, the drunks saw me and started running. Shoko’s eyes widened. I grabbed her hand as I went by, jerking her into motion. The tingling in my neck was overwhelming.

Something smashed into my back and I went down hard in someone’s driveway. A shoe drove into my ribs, and then a hand grabbed my hair and hauled me up. I covered my head, trying to squirm away and escape the blows. Where was Shoko? What was the other guy doing to her?

As if in reply, I heard a girl’s yell, followed by an ugly high-pitched sound.

I’d had enough.

The men fell back in surprise as I straightened up and started hitting them, hard and fast, dodging their flailing fists. I drove my knee into a stomach and turned. The other guy backed away, but I went in tight—elbow to chin. He fell, but now the first guy was back up, cursing, grabbing at me—or trying to. He aimed a fist at my face, but my elbow met it and I heard knuckles crack. I jumped and drove my head into his face. I spun away, fell to the ground and rolled, waiting for the other guy to get back up and attack me.

I looked around. Both my attackers were sprawled facedown on the sidewalk. Had I done that? My neck still tingled, but something felt different.

Shoko stood in a pool of light near the middle of the street, her face emotionless—a blank mask lined with loose hair and a streak of blood. Her blouse hung open, the buttons ripped to her waist. My chest tightened as I moved toward her.

“Shoko …”

The third man pulled himself off the ground and cursed at Shoko. He didn’t notice me, or his friends sprawled on the sidewalk.

“So you took a self-defense class.” He pulled a knife. “Get over here, bitch!”

I picked up a board—maybe the one they’d hit me with—and glanced at Shoko again. She stood like a statue, her head lowered, so small compared with the man. I started to move, but when our eyes met through the strands of hair that fell across her face, I froze. She wiped a hand across her cheek and started slowly forward.

“Don’t.” Though my heart sank, I couldn’t get my feet to move.

The man laughed, but his face changed as Shoko broke into a run. She closed the gap to about five feet before she exploded into action, her hands and feet a blur as she smashed into him. He staggered backward as her small feet and hands battered him, each impact like the crack of a home run. Then she jumped so high I couldn’t believe it and smashed her foot into his head.

He fell sideways into a parked car. Shoko settled back to the ground, sure and steady as a cat as he slid down the car door.

She turned back to me, her dark eyes wild and dangerous. A smile curled the corners of her mouth. Light flashed off steel as a blade twirled in her hand, spinning from thumb to pinky and back again—she had his knife.

“I should take your head!” She screamed in Japanese.

The man’s eyes went wide as she threw the knife so fast that I couldn’t see it. I only heard the impact when it slammed into the center of his hand, pinning it to the car door. He was still swearing and screaming when Shoko kicked him in the head.

There was silence.

Shoko stood near the car, poised for more action, with one sock drooping, her blouse still open and her blazer askew. She glanced up and down the street, frowning.

“Are … are you OK?”

She nodded. Lights came on in windows above us. Curtains opened and faceless silhouettes appeared.

“I called the police!” a lady yelled, fear in her voice, in her energy.

Shoko pulled her blazer closed. “What are ‘police’?”

“
Keikan
—policemen. They’ll take these guys to jail.” Then I looked at the scene around us—three men down, unconscious, one with a knife wound. They weren’t just hurt, they were a bloody mess. I looked at the guy I’d head-butted, his face a mask of blood. I remembered what Lin had said at dinner about making Grandpa look bad. How would we explain this?

“This is bad,” I said. “The police will take us, too.”

She glanced around. “I will not go with these police.”

“You can’t fight them.”

She shook her head. “I will not go.”

“Then we need to get out of here!”

We ran, staying in the shadows, until we reached California Street, back where I’d started. Once there, I stopped to catch my breath and check for pursuers. I caught my reflection in the pharmacy window and was shocked by what I saw. My face was bruised and bloody, already beginning to swell, and blood splattered the front of my shirt—not all of it mine.

There were sirens in the distance now. Shoko looked at me.

“Police cars.”

She pushed past me and bolted toward the street. Without thinking, I lunged forward and grabbed her sleeve. She spun, rage in her eyes. I blocked her fist and yanked her back onto the sidewalk as a horn blared, so loud and close that I let out a yell. We both fell, her on top of me, as a trolley bus roared past, air brakes hissing.

Shoko rolled off me and onto her knees, but my clenched fist still held her sleeve. She tried to pull away but without much force, like a child tugging at an adult’s pant leg. Then she sat back on the sidewalk as a low cry escaped her. She squeezed her eyes shut.

“This place is too much for me.” She sounded more frustrated than scared.

The sirens were getting closer. I pulled her up and we ran across the street and dived into the shadows as two police cars roared up the street. They turned the corner where we’d just been, tires screeching, the reflection of their red and blue lights dancing on the buildings. A moment later the sirens fell silent.

I looked at Shoko crouched beside me. She looked small, vulnerable. I had a hard time picturing her throwing a knife into a man’s hand even though I’d just watched her do exactly that.

I squeezed my eyes shut and focused on the moment. In the distance I heard another siren, probably an ambulance.

I stood up. “We have to get off the street.”

As we jogged past the yellow building with its dark staircase, my body began to shake—leftover adrenaline—and it got worse as it reached my hands. I tried to hide it, but I was beyond scared. Maybe running away was a mistake. Maybe we should have waited. Instead, I turned toward my house.

Shoko looked to me. “I have caused you trouble?”

I let out a short laugh. “You could say that. A lot of people are gonna be pissed about this—my grandpa and my mom for starters—but that doesn’t matter. They were going to—” I swallowed.

“When he ripped my blouse, I saw it in his eyes.” She looked up at me, her eyes wide. “His grip was so strong and I froze.” Another pause. “There is much wickedness here. More than I expected.”

I nodded. I’d always thought so, too. “He didn’t … hurt you, did he?”

She shook her head. “He had no time. By then I was fighting.” She grinned. “I knocked that man down and kicked one of the men hitting you.”

I sighed and felt a bit deflated. I’d beaten only one, after all. My gaze went toward the ground but stopped at her knees. I pointed at them.

“You’re bleeding, a lot.”

She bent to look, pulling her hair from her face. She looked embarrassed. “It is nothing. My mother says I am a clumsy girl.”

“You’re definitely not clumsy! My God, can you fight! But that knife throw was a little, um …”

She nodded. “Too weak, I agree. I should have put it through his eye, but”—she gave me a shy smile—“I do not know the rules here.”

I stared at her. “What are you, an assassin or something?”

She looked confused. “Assassins kill a target with stealth, without warning. I only defended myself.” Then she glanced around the empty street. Her apprehension reappeared. “They attacked me.”

“What are you doing down here at night anyway?”

“I saw a movie,” she said. “Then I went for a walk.” She looked rather proud of herself.

“Tourists don’t come to this neighborhood to see a movie. And not even a tourist would be stupid enough to walk alone at night.”

“Stupid?” She crossed her arms, her eyes defiant. “I go where I want, when I want.”

“And look where
that
got us.”

She scowled at me. “If it is stupid to be here at night, then why were
you
here?”

“Because of you!” I felt that energy rising inside me again. “If I hadn’t been there—”

She put fingers to her temples. “Did I ask you to come?”

I threw up my hands. “You didn’t even know those guys were behind you!”

“So you came to
rescue
me?” Her words dripped sarcasm, but I sensed something else in her.

I hesitated. “I was getting a ride home.”

Her hands went to her hips and she stopped walking. “How did you know I was there?”

I stopped, too. “I … I sensed something was wrong when I saw those men. Then I saw a girl—I didn’t know it was you—but I knew I had to do something.”

Shoko looked surprised. “Do you often have intuitive feelings and rescue girls?”

I felt myself flush. “Never before, but a lot of weird things have happened since I first saw you.” I looked at the sidewalk. “Been getting these feelings, like premonitions.”

“You felt my energy, or danger, from that far away?”

I nodded.

“Then you are very strong.” She looked confused as she pushed a few strands of hair from her face. “There
is
something strange about you. And when you get angry … something is not right.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Inside your grandfather’s house, your energy was … unpleasant.”

“You lied to me and stole the journal!”

Her eyes narrowed. “I did not
steal
the journal!”

“Yes, you did!”

“I wanted to read it. I did what I had to do—I will not have any regrets in my life.”

Pent-up frustration blasted out of me. “You can’t just do whatever you want to other people!”

She stepped back, her face turned to the side, her hands on her head as if she had a bad headache. “I said I would return it.”

Her little-girl act made my anger rise up like a wave. It was almost tangible, like I could ball it up and throw it right at her—

I saw her move, every detail in slow motion, felt the blows shake my torso and noticed my feet leave the earth. I became weightless as the world twirled around me. I saw the clouds against the dark sky, the street lamps, the trees, then the grainy surface of the sidewalk.

I crashed into the ground in a full belly flop and my lungs collapsed under the force. It took two or three seconds before oxygen could make it back into my body, and when it did, pain came with it. I lay there wheezing, curled in the fetal position. She stood back, wary, her expression blank as she assessed me.

“That was a stupid thing to do,” she said. “Use your energy on me again and I will do worse.”

I buried my face in my hands. “I don’t understand.”

She sat on the cold sidewalk beside me while I lay there battling my emotions—and pain. I don’t know how long we stayed that way, but as I began to regain my composure, I noticed an unusual feeling growing inside me. At first, I couldn’t grasp what it was, but slowly I realized it was peace and contentment. It washed over me, warm and gentle.

Her hand touched me and I felt a jolt.

“You are right,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. “Even with your warning, that man had me before I could react.”

I kept my eyes on the ground. “You didn’t need me,” I whispered.

“You are wrong. Had I been surprised by three men …” She shook her head and looked frustrated again. “This place is difficult … I cannot hear well.”

She seemed to hear me just fine.

“I have offended you.” She paused and then gave her head a little shake. “I said that I do not want any regrets, but I regret doing that to you.”

In the pool of light from the street lamps, she looked very much like the girl I’d met at the library. But everything was different now.

“I don’t know what’s happening to me,” I said.

“You are strange.” She sighed. “And there are too many unexplained coincidences between us. I must ask—” She looked away.

I tried to sit up and was rewarded with a sharp pain in my ribs. She helped me to my feet and we continued toward my house in silence. As we climbed the hill in the dark, I noticed how peaceful it was. With the light from the street lamps scattered on the ground, diffused by the leaves of the trees above us, it was actually beautiful, and I realized that for the first time in my life, I wasn’t nervous about being out at night.

I noticed that Shoko was crossing her arms, hugging herself to keep her blazer closed. I took off my jacket and placed it over her shoulders the way I’d seen my dad do with my mom.