Page 40 of The Gods Will Sing Our Song

“A chained dragon.”

Chapter Twelve

Violet

It’s hard to focus at school. We’ve been moved inside but we still need to bring our own seating, and the classes are all mixed. White teachers will be sent in the fall, but in the meantime a willowy Japanese woman named Mrs. Hata oversees my group. She’s as elegant as a ballerina and dresses nicely every day, despite the dusty conditions. She majored in library science and was a director for the Los Angeles City School District libraries back home, credentials that she enjoys reminding us of.

“I’ve opened a library in my barrack,” she says. “I hope to see you students there often, especially the upperclassmen.” She eyes me. I’m the only upperclassman in her charge at the moment, but she talks as though there are ten of me. “Everyone needs to buckle down and study hard. Textbooks will be arriving, and the classrooms are getting outfitted with linoleum and a stove for heating, so you can expect to be learning even as the cold sets in. It’s important for everyone to stay on track, and I hope you all take personal responsibility for doing so.” I stare at her. School has never felt more pointless. I’m not even certain what I’m working toward, since college admissions are closed to us. She frowns at me. “I expect happy faces.”

It’s a bit ludicrous considering the stern look she’s giving me, but I obediently neutralize my expression. As she talks, my mind wanders. I’ve tied a green ribbon in my hair today for my meeting with Ren. Before, when I thought about seeing him, my heart would flutter. Now I just feel anxious.

I cut out of class early when Mrs. Hata has her back turned and hurry to Akira’s block. Ren is there, ahead of me. He strides down the firebreak, very much not waiting for me or looking for me. My deer heats at the sight of him, oblivious of our divide. I notice that he briefly touches the fox around his neck. He must know I’m behind him. But he doesn’t slow down or even glance over his shoulder.

“Ren!” I call. At that, he comes to a stop. He casts a quick look at me and tucks his hands into his pockets, even though I imagine it must make his shoulder hurt. I thought he might walk over to meet me halfway, but he doesn’t move. Everything about him is as stiff as an ironing board.

“I thought you might not come until later,” he says, his voice as stiff as his body.

“Why not?” I try to act normal. “Akira said two o’clock.”

“Because you had to miss school.” It’s a simple enough statement, but he says it caustically, mouth twisting up at the corner. He squints down the firebreak in the other direction. Without another word, he starts walking again, his steps fast.

“As a matter of fact, I did have to leave school early.” I hurry after him, but he’s so tall, it’s difficult. “I’ll make up the schoolwork later this week.”

“Rough life,” he mutters under his breath as I finally catch up to him. He slows his pace just a bit.

“What did you say?” I demand, irritation spilling over me. He meets my gaze directly as we walk, his attention so intense that I almost stop mid-step.

“Rough. Life,” he overpronounces.

“I didn’t say it was rough.” My irritation grows. “I just said I’ll have to make it up. Slow down. You’re practically running away.”

“Well, maybe you should stop chasing after me.” Ren speaks so evenly that I’m caught off guard and left sputtering. He’s infuriating and…and obtuse. Can’t he understand that I only wanted to keep peace with Mama? For heaven’s sake, I’m the one who must deal with her every day, not him.

Abruptly, he stops while I’m still walking. Suddenly, we’re close. Closer than ever before, even yesterday when we almost kissed. Sunlight gilds his brow in white dashes of light. It shines upon him like a favored son, but still he seems obscured. It’s fitting because I think, implicitly, that his true nature is hidden deep where sunlight cannot reach. I’m in awe. I’m filled with desire. He sucks in his breath. I understand. I wish to draw in mine, too, but I can’t because it’s gone.

I want to touch his jaw.

I want to intertwine my fingers in his hair.

I want to pull his face to mine.

I think he knows, because he suddenly whispers, “Don’t.”

There’s a low, raspy note to his voice. My breath is restored to me. I inhale sharply. “Ren, I—”

A door flings open.

“Join me, mortals!” Akira is framed in the doorway. I remain where I am but Ren steps back immediately, as though he’s been freed from a spell. “You may enter my chambers.”

Akira’s hair tumbles down to his waist, and he’s in the process of tying the obi of his blue kimono. His gold earring shines in the light, dancing from his lobe. The crack in his face snakes up to his eyebrow and it gives his appearance a jagged, frightening look. Despite Akira’s magnificence, I long to glance at Ren again.

Akira steps aside. Still not looking at me, Ren gestures for me to go first. I do, but my throat is tight. I hate the rift between us. I want to tell Ren I’m sorry. I want to make things right.

In my pocket, my deer glows hot again—but this time it’s a pulse, like a combusting spark plug or bursting light bulb. It pushes me forward, as though I’m merely the vehicle meant to take it where it wants to go.

I step into Akira’s barrack.

While everyone else shares accommodations, the man has the barrack to himself, and it’s fully furnished. A low table is set with tea, but it’s the least of the room’s magnificence. Delicate, sheer screens printed with flowers and leaves create dividers throughout the space. Huge porcelain pots, veined with thick rivers of gold and printed with blue pastoral scenes, sit in an elegant row, housing bonsai trees. A bed sits on a low wood frame and is covered in fine linens. I must blink to convince myself the next element is real, even as my mind opens to accept the magic around me—it’s a long, wide basin. Somehow, reeds and willows grow along its sides, and koi fish, their brilliant orange, black, and white scales glimmering beneath the surface, languidly swim along. Then, just as the trout did, they slip above the water to swim through the air. Their gills calmly open and close in midair, and their fins and tails fluctuate. There’s a mirror in an ornate wood frame, a ghastly, helmeted samurai face looming inside it.