Amanda Sun - Shadow

I smirked, just a little. Things were never what they appeared to be, not in my world.

I took another step toward her, my movement hidden by the sound of the wind encircling us.

She’d confessed to me up here that day. Sato and I had come up to the roof to drink our cold milk teas after kendo practice. I remembered throwing the can at him hard that day because I was pissed. He’d brought down a tsuki hit that I’d barely dodged, and I hadn’t even anticipated it. It used to be so easy to take him down, but he’d been getting tougher, and somehow while I was busy drowning in the nightmares that haunted me, he’d left me behind and surpassed me.

I’d looked at him, scrolling through his phone for any texts from them , any threats they wanted him to make today, any runs or jobs they wanted to send him on. It had started the spring we’d entered Suntaba, and it was getting worse. He was spiraling into his own darkness, and the thing was, he’d chosen it. It wasn’t like me. I didn’t have a choice. Why would you take a normal life and throw it away?

The bitterness had spilled over inside of me as it joined with my frustration from kendo practice.

I hate you , I’d thought as I ran my thumb down the cold tea can. Your life was normal. You don’t have the nightmares. You could even be the better kendouka if you focused.

I didn’t hate him, not really, but the jealousy was white hot as I pulled back the can, the weight of it sloshing in my hand as I hurled it toward him.

Your life was normal , and you fucked it up.

The can smacked into Satoshi’s chest and he curled his fingers around it before it could drop. “ Oi , what the hell, man?” he said, his deep eyes searching mine. “Save it for when you beat the crap out of Katakou School’s team.” He grinned then, pressing a gentle fist into my shoulder before cracking the pop tab backward.

I remembered the shame that followed.

I hate you , I’d thought again, but this time it was myself I hated.

And then Myu had appeared at the top of the stairs, her skirt hiked up short and her nails painted with blue bows or stars or something that sparkled in the sunlight.

She’d stood there for a moment, her hair catching on the wind the way it was now, her eyes locked with mine and a letter in her hands. She’d looked determined, like I was just an argument she had to win.

Another rejection I’d have to make. Another person I’d have to push away.

And something in me had snapped. I wanted to be normal, like Satoshi. I wanted it more than anything.

So I’d said yes when she confessed—yes, let’s go out. And I don’t know which of us had been more surprised.

So much had changed in three months. The nightmares still haunted me, but I didn’t feel as alone. In the daylight, standing here with Myu, I could almost imagine that being normal was possible.

A gust of wind twisted her hair around her bright red-and-cream muffler, and I reached out my hand for her.

Alone on the rooftop together. Romantic or something, right?

But alone on a rooftop with me could be deadly. That’s what happens when you’re marked. I was drowning slowly, drop by drop.

I didn’t want to live in shadow anymore. I didn’t want to push her away.

I rested my hand on her muffler, her tangled hair soft against my fingers.

She whirled around. “Yuu-chan.”

“Myu,” I said. “What are you doing out here? Sa-me zo .” I tucked the knit muffler tighter around her neck.

“It’s cold,” she agreed. “I was just thinking. About us.”

Oh , great .

“What about us?” I said, wrapping my arms around her. She didn’t move away, so I figured it was a good sign.

“Are you...is everything okay with us?”

How could it be fine when I was less than human?

But I wanted it to be fine. God, how I wanted it to be fine. Myu put up with my crap—wasn’t that all I could ask for?

“Everything’s fine,” I said. “It’s great.”

She could destroy me now. She could ask if what Sato had said was true. Was I with another girl instead of her? Could I tell her where I disappeared to all those times, or why I didn’t answer my phone?

No. I couldn’t tell her anything.

If she asked, I would be silent, and she would leave. And I would be alone on the rooftop, looming over the world that could never really be mine.

Myu smiled and leaned into me. “ Suki ,” she said. I love you.

I held on to her, looking out at the emptiness of the courtyard.

Is this what love is? Because if she lets go of me , I will gasp and sputter and drown.

There will be nothing left of me but emptiness.

Katie

So this was what my life had become.

I sat on the bed, not even bothering to raise the blinds. The light from outside only emphasized the features that reminded me this room wasn’t mine. Bright red walls, posters of bands I didn’t listen to, a black dresser with a graveyard of torn stickers littering the top. Linda’s daughter Jess had started university in September—Linda had barely made the drive back across the country in time to help plan Mom’s funeral. And now I haunted Jess’s room like some kind of ghost, pale and lurking in dark corners.

I remembered the day in July when Linda and Mom were having coffee in our kitchen, Linda laughing nervously about empty-nest syndrome. “What am I going to do with all my free time?” She was giggling. Mom had patted her arm quietly as Linda babbled on.

Mom could always see through people to the real story, see what was really in someone’s heart, even if they didn’t know it themselves. It made her a great journalist but a tough mother. She always knew when I was lying, so there was no point in telling her anything but the truth. We talked over everything instead, every dilemma that weighed on me, every drama that seemed huge and crushing and mountainous.

It was funny, looking back on it. Those troubles were feather-light compared to losing Mom. This was the real mountain looming over me, and now Mom wasn’t here to help me navigate it.

But I would make it through, right? I was already better, a few weeks dulling the sting of losing her.

Lying to myself, of course. I was in pieces. What would Mom say if she were here? Pat me on the arm, pour me another cup of tea. Talk to me , Katie. You can’t climb a mountain if you don’t look where you’re going.

Living with Linda was all right for a while. School started, and everything was back to normal. At first my friends walked on eggshells around the subject of Mom’s death, a few timid sorrys muttered nervously, like they were somehow killing her just by saying it. But after a few weeks they moved on to the usual high school news, who was dating whom, the chem teacher’s breakdown in class, the mystery graffiti in the lunchroom. Only I was trapped in the past, some sort of time-warped version of myself that couldn’t break free from the grief. Some days I took off at lunch, tears rolling down my face all the way back to Linda’s. Friends stopped calling to see if I wanted to do things. They knew I’d end up blubbering, which is no fun, fair enough, but I couldn’t help myself. I felt caged in, like I couldn’t grieve. How could I? My life was still in limbo, stuck at a weird crossroads where the only way to go forward was to rip everything to shreds again.

I was stuck in this weird room of harsh red and black, the ceiling sloping in like a tomb and shelves of books that weren’t mine.

A room missing its girl. And a different girl in its place. Like some kind of changeling.