Jeremiah—

A few days have passed quietly. I sip at my coffee, staring blearily out the front window at the gray clouds looming above. It’s going to be a rainy weekend.

I glance up to see Shyba coming down the steps with the tray. Not much has happened with him since the other night. I talked to Mama about what Nicky had told me. She said she would talk to Shyba, but since she has had to pull double shifts the past couple days, I doubt she’s had time.

Should I talk to him? I wonder if he would even listen to me. I just can’t seem to determine whether to trust him or not and he seems especially uneasy around me as well. I watch as Kiara greets him and takes the tray from him. He doesn’t say much as usual, but I notice he doesn’t keep his lead lowered as much while he talks to her.

My phone starts ringing, and I pull it out of my pocket to see Nicky is calling me. “Hey. What’s up?” I answer.

“Jer, I need you to come over right now, as fast as you can,” I hear him say. His voice is shaky, and I feel my heart drop. Crap. Is he having another panic attack?

“On my way,” I say. “Need me to stay on the phone with you?”

“Don’t worry, I’m okay. Just hurry,” he says.

“Okay. Be there in a bit,” I say and hang up. “I’m going over to Nicky’s,” I say before grabbing my keys and going to jump in my truck.

Once I start the engine, I speed down the highway toward town. Barely half an hour later I pull into the apartment complex on the edge of town. I quickly park and jump out, rushing to his door. As I open the door, I find him sitting on the couch, clutching a pillow and staring at his laptop on the coffee table.

He looks up, his eyes wide. “Jer.”

I shut the door and go over. “Are you okay?”

“I-I’m okay,” he mutters and takes a deep breath. “Ever since the other night I haven’t been able to shake the bad vibe I got from Shyba. So, I tried to see if I could find more information on him, but having just part of a name was getting me nowhere. It doesn’t seem like ‘Shyba’ is even a Japanese name anyway. At least not a usual one.”

I feel my heart slow a bit. So, he wasn’t having a panic attack. Then what did he find that made him sound so afraid on the phone?

“Okay?” I mutter.

He grips the pillow. “I couldn’t find anything with his name…but…” he pauses for a moment. Slowly, he reaches over and turns the laptop toward me. “When I tried to find something about his eyes this is what I found.”

On it, I see what looks to be a wanted flyer, only it’s all in Japanese. Then I notice the photo. It’s blurry and dark, but I notice right away the red eyes and the same facial features as Shyba. Even the coat looks the same from the one he was wearing when we found him. My heart seems to fall to the floor, and I can’t breathe.

“I used a translator,” Nicky tells me. “It basically says ‘Wanted. Assassin known as Red Dragon. Thought to be between the ages of 18-25 and about 5’ 10”. The main identifiers of this man are his red eyes and black coat. If seen, call the police immediately. Do not attempt to engage him as he is considered extremely dangerous. Any information leading to his arrest will be rewarded.’”

For a moment it’s like I can’t find my voice. I stare at the photo, trying not to see Shyba, but I know without a doubt it’s him. I find myself crumpling into a chair, unable to keep upright anymore.

“I-I found some other things too. Supposedly, he’s killed over a hundred people in just a few years, mostly gang members and such. That they know of at least. He uses a gun… a-and kills execution style,” he tells me. “But he has only ever killed in certain parts of Tokyo, so I don’t know what he would be doing here.”

I am still silent, unable to fully comprehend what I’m hearing.

“What do we do?” he mutters, clutching at the pillow again.

“Should we call someone?” I ask quietly.

“I thought about that, but I don’t know if they would believe us since we’re in America. Maybe if we had a photo of him we could send?” he asks. “And I don’t know if the police here even know about it or would take us seriously. And for all we know, if police show up at the house, he could take hostages.”

I think for a moment. “We need to be careful,” I mutter, then a cold shiver runs down my spine and I’m suddenly standing. “Oh god, he’s alone with Kiara at the house!”

My body moves before I can think and I’m rushing to the door. “I’m gonna keep an eye on him until we can think of what to do. Let me know if you find out anything else,” I say.

“Be careful,” I hear him say as I run out.

It seems like it takes forever to get home even though I’m flying down the highway. My heart pounds faster and faster as I grip the steering wheel, my knuckles white. I can’t believe this. I knew there was something off about him, but I never would have thought he was a serial killer. My mind spins. What should I do?

The tires slide on the gravel as I pull into the driveway. I stop and take a deep breath. I have to act calm, like I know nothing. As I step out of the truck, I take another breath. Okay, just walk in like nothing happened. However, if he’s done anything to Kiara there will be hell to pay.

I open the door and walk in, glancing around. There at the kitchen table I notice Kiara and Shyba sitting there. There is a book before them on the table along with a couple glasses of lemonade. She looks up and sees me then smiles. I feel a weight lift off my shoulders, seeing her safe.

“Is everything okay?” she asks, coming over to me.

“Yeah, everything is good,” I say, smiling. I glance up, noticing Shyba watching us with his head still lowered. “What are you guys doing?”

“He wants to learn how to read English, so Mama and I set up a curriculum for him. Today is his first day, but he’s already memorized the alphabet,” she says and looks back. “He’s really smart, huh?”

I notice his gaze return downward. “Of course. He already speaks it good,” I say, trying to be nice.

I need to stay on his good side. Then again, it’s difficult to decide what to do around him. What if I slip up? What would he do if he found out I know who he is? Would he kill me?

She goes back over to sit beside him, and I casually stroll over to the kitchen counter to make myself another cup of coffee. As I pour it, I keep my ear to them, half-way watching every move he makes. She begins showing him how to write. I’m surprised at how fast he’s picking this up.

He reaches up and I watch carefully as he picks up the glass of lemonade and goes to take a sip. Suddenly, he draws back like something bit him and his eyes are a bit wide.

“What is it?” Kiara asks.

“It is sour… and sweet?” he mutters, staring at the glass in his hands.

She giggles. “It’s tart. You never had lemonade before?”

He glances at her before looking away, then nods and takes another sip.

For a moment I am at a loss. This kid is a serial killer? In any case, I don’t see how this can end well. For the time being though, I’ll keep an eye on him and if it comes down to it, I’ll do whatever it takes to keep my family safe.

Shyba—

As night falls, I find myself out on the porch once again, staring up at the sky. The moon is half dark, but it still gives off a beautiful glow. I gaze up at it, trying to remember the last time I had let myself look at it before I awoke here. The more I peer at it the heavier my heart seems to become with words I do not know how to express.

I hear an engine approach and lights suddenly glare from behind me, moving across the porch. I turn back to see the red car pulling up. Once it stops, Reba gets out and walks toward the house. As she comes up the steps, she notices me.

“Oh, Shyba. Enjoying some fresh air?” she asks, coming over. She sits next to me and lets out a sigh. “The stars are so beautiful.”

I nod, not knowing what to say. She sets her purse down beside her and leans back, taking in a deep breath. Then there is a light meow behind us. We both turn to see the cat there and upon getting our attention she comes over to us.

“You must be feeling much better now, right Miss Kitty?” Reba asks, gently picking her up and setting her on her lap. She strokes the cat which then begins to purr.

“Is that her name?” I ask.

“For now, until we come up with a better one,” she tells me.

The cat then comes over to me and settles herself in my lap, rubbing her head against my chest. For a moment I am stunned before I begin to pet her. Reba laughs lightly.

“She likes you. It must be because you helped save her,” she says. “Speaking of, I don’t think I ever thanked you for that, for stepping in like you did. So, thank you Shyba.”

I glance at her before looking to the ground. What should I say? It is true I helped, but Kiara was so frightened of what I did.

“Although,” she mutters slowly, like she is unsure what to say, “I do wish you would have called for help or something instead of acting so rashly.”

My chest tightens. I recall the last time I had asked for help, begged for it. Help never came. I had no other way, no other option. In this case though, I fear what could have happened had I waited. She could have been seriously hurt had I hesitated.

“When I saw her like that, I was angry,” I mutter softly, absent-mindedly stroking the cat. “She is innocent.”

“She told me what happened,” she says. “Do you feel like breaking his arm was a bit much?”

I feel a twinge in my heart. Was that really such a terrible thing to do? I had given him warning and he did not heed it. Then again, I am realizing more and more just how much different this place is from all I had previously known. Perhaps there was a simpler solution to the situation that I just could not see.

She leans forward a bit, looking over at me. “I also know about the knife. Will you give it to me?”

My body stiffens. “Why?” I ask. How could she know about it? Nicky must have said something.

“I don’t want you to feel like you need it. I want you to feel safe here. Do you understand?” she asks. “There is no reason for you to need such a thing here.”

For a moment I mull over her words. I should not go against her. I reach into my pocket and pull out the knife. Without looking up, I hand it to her. She takes it and places it in her purse. Strangely, I feel a weight lift off my shoulders.

“Thank you. Also, I do have a request if you want to continue staying here,” she says. “No more fighting, okay? If you have a problem or something like that comes up again, find me or Jeremiah. I don’t want to see you hurt again, alright sweetie?”

Again, I am struck by her words and look up at her. She gives me a warm smile. No more fighting. Can that really be so?

“Okay,” I mutter.

“Good,” she says and stands.

I look back down at the ground. “Reba,” I call, without realizing.

“Yes?”

I hesitate. “What does ‘sweetie’ mean? You keep saying that to me.”

“Oh, it’s a nickname. You know the word ‘sweet’, but cuter. It’s what people call you when they like you or what you tend to call children. Does it bother you? I can use a more masculine one if you want or just your name.”

“Ah… It is okay,” I mutter, beginning to pet the cat again.

I hear her giggle. “Alright. Oh, before I forget I wanted to warn you that we’ll be having a lot of company over this weekend. It’s Jade and Harmony’s birthday.”

She continues, “We’ll be having a group of girls staying the night for a slumber party. I know it’s probably uncomfortable for you, but would you mind going with Jeremiah to stay the night at Nicky’s apartment then? If not, you don’t have to. I just thought it might be even more stressful for you in a house full of kids.”

I feel my stomach tighten. I doubt she would ask if it were not necessary that I do so. Still, I should continue to do as she says.

“I will go,” I tell her.

“Great. I already talked to Jeremiah and Nicky about it. This will be a good experience for you. You can get to know them better,” she says.

I nod once, though what she says is strange. How could this be a good experience? Why should I know them better?