Page 61 of The Gods Will Sing Our Song

“I haven’t seen you for a bit, Miss Aratani,” he says, coming over. He squints down at the encyclopedia. I ignore him and reach for a book to put on the shelf. He takes it from me under the guise of putting it on the shelf for me. “Do you know about such things? Japanese folklore?” His voice is demanding. I remember his interest in Ren’s pendant and combat the urge to touch the deer in my pocket.

“No,” I say. “It’s for a school essay.”

“Is that so? You don’t happen to know about…” He hesitates and then leans forward to speak directly into my ear. I cringe and lean back, but I’m met with the bookshelf. “Relics? Your boyfriend had one. Do you know where it went?”

“He lost it,” I say, trying to protect Ren. “And he never told me anything about it.”

“Mr. Boser.” We both turn to see Mr. Nomura, Ren’s neighbor, stepping inside. He gestures to the circle of chairs. “The meeting is starting.”

Relief courses through me as Mr. Boser goes to take his seat. I catch Mr. Nomura’s eye, and he nods to me.

I listen to the meeting as I sort the books. Discussions about wages, rations, censorship of our community newspaper, and a pending JACL trip to Salt Lake City unfold. But my mind keeps turning over a single phrase: your boyfriend.

Seeking distraction, I thumb through the entries of my encyclopedia. Extensive passages expound on the most prominent deities, like Amaterasu, Susanoo-no-Mikoto, Izanagi and Izanami, Inari, and the Seven Lucky Gods. More passages recount Raijin, the kami of lightning, and Fūjin, the kami of wind.

Finally, I find it. A tiny passage under The Nameless Faceless God, a minor deity. My heart stops as I read.

The Nameless Faceless God is full of natural agitation and moodiness. He seeks worship but cannot find any, as he is immaterial, having no voice by which to speak or body with which to visibly manifest to mortals. When he comes to villages, he cannot leave, and his restless energy, seen in shadows, feeds off any unhappiness present in the villagers. His shadow feasts and grows so much that darkness falls over the village. Eventually it combusts, causing huge fires and often burning villages to the ground. Only once the fires have burned out can the Nameless Faceless God move on to the next village.

You will not be able to know for certain if he is in your village, but if you sense that he is, bring all magical relics to a torii gate in offering. Only the most powerful combination of relics can send him on his way and stop his shadow from bursting and destroying your home.

I’m broken from my horrified trance when the rec center door flies open. It’s Kai and the boys from the warehouse, their fists lifted, chanting, “Traitors, traitors, traitors!”

I gasp. The members of the meeting have risen, their cheeks reddening. Mr. Boser leaps from his chair.

“Silence!” he shouts at Kai and the boys. “I order you to disperse.”

Kai steps forward and shouts even louder. Mr. Boser yanks the rifle from the guard, pushes him aside, and lifts it, pointing it directly at Kai’s face. I scream. I cover my ears but not my eyes, not knowing what to do, just trying to block everything out and make it stop.

“Do it, you bastard!” Kai cries. “Pull the trigger and see what happens. Watch us rise up!”

Mr. Boser and Kai face each other, and I think he’s going to pull the trigger. But then the guard intervenes, grabbing Mr. Boser’s shoulder. He thrusts the rifle back into the guard’s arms.

“Watch yourself,” he says to Kai, but he’s breathing hard and there’s fright in his eyes. “Watch yourself or I’ll have you arrested.”

I’m relieved when he pushes past Kai and the others, until Kai’s gaze falls on me. My chest seizes. He doesn’t look anything like the carefree boy from the fire. I realize I haven’t seen him at school lately.

“What are you doing?” he demands.

“What do you mean?” I ask, immediately defensive.

“You’re going to the meetings now? Trying to work with them?”

“What if I am?” I bristle, my heartbeat kicking back up. He scowls at me. Then he shakes his head and leaves.

I grab the encyclopedia and the book for Emi and rush out, too. Still shaken, I look up. The shadows have risen into the sky again, lingering in thick, almost orderly bands. Heavy and present.

I hurry back to my barrack.

I dream that night about Akira stalking around the camp until he meets barbed wire. With a cry of rage, he turns and stalks the other way. Again and again. In the dream, dust stirs. It lifts and spins. It becomes the ocean, arching up into cresting waves, which crash across the ground. Color becomes the flinty graphite of my drawings.

A knock startles me awake. It’s a panicked fist pounding hard against our door, loud enough to make Mr. Kimura’s coughing snores pause, and the chatty couple falls silent. I sit up in bed as Mama gets up.

“Who can that be?” she asks.

It’s past midnight. Creeping, nocturnal shadows play across the floorboards. I don’t think I’ll ever see shadows the same. These ones lengthen, trying to free themselves from the corners as the searchlight blazes through our barrack. Mama holds out a hand for me to stay back and wraps herself in a sweater. She opens the door just an inch, then the rest of the way.

Another shadow falls across the floorboards to join the others. Only this one isn’t formless and frightening. It’s long, lanky—human. Ren.