across from the river. Birds hung from the line, or rather skin hung like birds. And as he watched, several disengaged themselves, took flight and headed towards him. With the Tōryanse in his ears and his heart in his throat, he somehow found the strength to run the little way he still had to go. Reaching down, he grasped a piece of metal and began to swing it at the skin-birds as they sought to land on him.
He was so close to home, so close to his wife and child— he couldn't lose himself so near the end. Here and there homes still stood, battered and beaten, but still a home where the occupants could count on the protection of the walls and the comfort of a sturdy ceiling.
Skins swooped and grasped at him, but he wouldn't let them attach. His family had once been samurai, so he wielded the metal as if it was the finest sword, and he was the strongest warrior. The skin birds tripped him once, but he managed to get back to his feet with only the memory of a recipe for kuromame to remind of how close he'd come.
When he turned onto his street, it was with a scream of joy. He found himself laughing as he swung and batted away the skin-birds that seemed increasingly desperate to attach to him. He spied his house halfway down the block, still standing and barely damaged. Warm shards of joy skewered his doubts as he realized that he was almost home.
Everything was going to be okay.
I am Itoro Haruki.
I am Itoro Haruki.
My wife is Katsumi.
My son is Mynami.
Suddenly a skin-bird struck him full in the face. He dropped the metal bar. As it clanged to the street, he used both hands to claw at the skin as foul memories intruded.
...taste of her sweet clean skin.
...smell of jasmine at the hollow of her throat.
...stickiness of the blood seeping from my slash across her stomach.
No! He screamed. He didn't see a face in the memory, but it reminded him too much of Katsumi. His torso lurched and twisted as he grasped the skin with both hands and jerked it free. A window had broken on the house next door and Itoro impaled the dread thing on a spike of broken glass.
Then he dashed for the front door. He tried the latch. It was unlocked. He rushed inside. Slamming the door behind him, he placed his back to the door. There on the mat against the wall were his wife and son. Huddled together, they stared at him. He experienced both delight and panic in the single second that their gazes locked.
The memory of the murder had nothing to do with Katsumi. She and his son were alive. But the look in their eyes. Was it the scar? Was it so bad? He turned to check it in the mirror near the door and saw that it was indeed a horrific wound. A palm-sized piece of skin had been ripped free when he'd disengaged himself from the man he'd been behind at the train station. But perhaps it would heal without much scarring if he took care of it. In the meantime, if it scared her so much he'd keep it covered.
"Katsumi, I was so worried," he said, turning back around. "Mynami, my son, how are you?"
He stepped towards them, causing his wife and child to draw their feet up as they huddled closer together. The abject terror in their eyes didn't match the joy that had come home to his heart.
"What's wrong? Are you worried about this?" he asked, pointing to his cheek. "We can get that fixed." He stepped closer and Katsumi opened her mouth to scream, so he stepped back. "My darling, what's wrong? Why are you so scared?"
"Get out of my house," she stammered.
"But Katsumi—"
"I don't know how you know my name, but stop using it!"
Thoughts swept through his mind. Was there someone else in the house? Was she trying to warn him? What had happened for her to act this way?
"Daddy is on backwards, mommy."
"I know, honey. Don't look."
On backwards? He felt his naked chest and back and couldn't decipher the meaning of his son's cryptic statement.
But the child wouldn't be hushed. "Daddy's tattoo. It's on this man's chest. Did he steal it, mommy? Did he steal daddy's tattoo?"
Itoro's eyes shot wide. He examined the skin from his chest, remembering how he'd had to peel away from the man in front of him. And