Page 50 of The Gods Will Sing Our Song

“Thank you, mi amiga. Your belief is noted. I’ll give you a discount. But you two”—he gestures toward Ren and Emi—“not a chance. Sugar in the gas tanks for both of you.”

Our laughter mingles with the music drifting over from the Tanabata festival. It’s nice to be sitting by a crackling fire under a giant star-freckled night sky. For a few moments, the fence with its razor-sharp burrs wrapping around camp isn’t present. Only the heat from the flames and the beauty from the stars is.

I realize Ren is looking at me again. The fire is warm, but his gaze sends shivers down my spine. This time, I can’t smile. I can’t look away. I’m held by him and the unyielding focus in his eyes.

“I haven’t written a wish to hang on the tree,” I say, and I try to sound flippant, but I know I don’t. “Would you go with me, Ren?”

Kai and Emi glance at each other and then at us. Ren shifts. He doesn’t say anything, but he nods, one stiff dip of his chin. We leave the fire and head to the grassy knolls. Slips of paper, ribbons, and pencils are set up next to the bamboo wishing tree. I pick up a slip.

I write, Please heal Otōsan and bring him safely home to us. I fold the paper, kiss it, and use a green ribbon to tie it to the tree. Ren watches.

“Is green your favorite color?” I’m surprised he speaks first. His voice is unexpectedly husky.

“It is,” I say. “How did you know?”

“You—” He cuts himself off and stares bleakly at me. “Your hair ribbon is always green.”

My hand goes to the strip of satin binding my hair back.

“It is. I…” I waver, unsure if I should tell him the truth. He shuffles awkwardly in place, as though torn between staying and simply walking away. “I wear it when I know I’m going to see you.”

At that, he blinks. The vacancy in his expression disappears, dominated by a much stronger emotion. Longing. I keep going. “I—How are you doing? Since you realized your father is…is gone? I’ve been thinking about you.”

Once again, his jaw tightens. Everything about him is so tense. I wish I could touch him and ease some of the strain so he can simply be. But I don’t think such a thing is possible for him.

“It makes sense he’s passed. It’d been so long.” He shrugs, as though that’s that. I nod slowly. Then he adds, “I mentioned to Emi. Asked if she thinks he’s dead. She says she always assumed there was a chance, so she wouldn’t be too upset if he was. Makes me wonder why I—why it never occurred to me.”

“You were so young when he left,” I say, trying to figure out how to continue. “I think it makes sense. You merely believed what you were told. And…maybe…”

“What?” The question is flat, but he leans slightly toward me, rapt.

“You received the magic in your pendant very soon after he left, right?” I say slowly. “He must’ve died shortly after leaving. Time changes people. Sometimes for good, sometimes for bad. He didn’t have any. Who knew what might’ve happened eventually? Maybe he would’ve contacted you, at some point. Or maybe not. But it’s an unknown and in its own way, it’s a hope, don’t you think?”

“I think—I don’t know what I think.” His voice is brisk, as though his guard is rising.

“I understand,” I say softly. “I never know what to think, either. We—we got letters from Otōsan. He’s been cleared to join us, but he’s too unwell to travel. I don’t know whether to be happy or sad.”

“That’s great he got cleared.” For once, Ren simply sounds sincere. He’s happy for me, even after everything. “I bet he’ll heal up quick. He has a good thing waiting for him. His family.”

I’m silent for a moment. The parallelism between our fathers haunts me. It feels forbidding, like a portent.

“I hope so,” I say. “I’ve been thinking about Akira, the divine favors, and how to free him.” I pause, peering up at Ren, wondering if this might be the bridge I use to reach him. “We still need his help. We teamed up before. Maybe we should again.”

“Team up?” Ren asks, and the flatness from before is back in his voice.

“Yes, I think it would be a good idea.”

“Yeah?” A shadow of a smile crosses Ren’s mouth but it isn’t a happy one. “I think I’d rather figure it out myself.”

“Two minds are better than one,” I say. “And why wouldn’t you want to work with me? I know the most about mythology, after all. How do you plan on freeing Akira if you don’t know any? We should do it together.”

“What about your mother?” he asks, and the shadow of a smile grows into a condescending grin. It infuriates me—and, bizarrely, the strange confidence beguiles me. Which, of course, only serves to infuriate me more. “Wouldn’t you need a permission slip from her?”

“Oh, please. I don’t need a permission slip from my mother!” I exclaim indignantly.

“Could’ve fooled me,” he says deliberately, crossing his arms as he stares down at me, face stubbornly set.

“Very well,” I say. “Figure it out for yourself, but don’t come asking for help when you realize you need it.”