Tokyo Academy-Final Showdown: The Tokyo Academy Series, #3

By Karin De Havin

She's been chosen for the battle of her life...will she survive?

 

Seventeen-year-old artist, Erin, is in her second semester as an exchange student at a prestigious Tokyo high school and things seem to be great. Except, one day, her ghost warns her things are about to change.Erin must leave her academy days behind and get ready to enter the paranormal world for good. She is chosen as the key player in the battle between the god of death and the sun goddess. The future of Japan is at stake.

 

Will she be up for a supernatural challenge that could kill her?

 

Find out if Erin will survive the battle of her life in the third and final book in the Tokyo Academy Series by author Karin De Havin.

 

If you enjoy kick ass young adult Tokyo based urban fantasy with a mystery that makes you turn the pages, then one-click for your copy of Final Showdown today!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Karin De Havin
• Release date: Feb 26, 2021
• ISBN: 9781393510765

Book preview

Chapter 1

Independent Study Rules

January 7 th 6:00AM

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Meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow.

My eyes darted open and I bolted upright in bed. My hands were thrust out in front of me as if I still held a weapon. An image flooded my mind—a knife. A knife that I aimed at Death’s throat until the stupid clock woke me up.

Slamming down the button on top of the clock, I sat up, mystified. Who the heck set the clock for six in the morning? It had to be one of Tori’s jokes. Wait…she was back in Idaho.

Shaking off my dream like a dog sheds water, I looked over at the calendar above my desk. Right. Winter break was over. And so was my battle with death—for now.

Throwing off my covers, I staggered down to the bathroom, brushed my teeth, and raced back upstairs. For once I didn’t want to be late for school. Especially when my morning was to begin in Mr. Shinji’s office. Because of the debacle placing me with the Moris and getting Hashika, I had wrangled quite the deal for myself. Mr. Shinji agreed to let me take two independent classes. Now I just needed to meet with him and explain what classes I wanted.

Downing a protein bar my mom sent me, I speed walked all the way to the train station. Having mastered the salarymen’s art of sleeping on trains, I managed to sleep the whole way to Shinjuku. I woke up just in time to hop off the train and race through the subway tunnel to catch the next train headed to Seda. It felt good to ride the trains like a native. Unfortunately, that meant I had to pass my favorite cardboard artist but being late to my meeting with Mr. Shinji was not an option.

I continued down the boulevard past the Seda bell tower, and all the way up two flights of stairs to Mr. Shinji’s office. Straightening my rumpled uniform sweater that got bunched up under my heavy wool coat, I knocked on the paneled wood door.

Come in, Ms. Van Horn.

As I entered Mr. Shinji’s simply furnished office, he sucked in a breath. I forgot he hadn’t seen me since Hashika ravaged my body. My skin still had a transparent, white cast that any vampire would envy. My muffin top was long gone, but no one would notice because my cheeks were so swollen, they resembled a chipmunk’s. Every morning my face swelled up for a couple of hours because of the residual fluid build up in my body from the final stages of Hashika. I dreaded seeing Setsuko and Gina. No doubt they would dub me with the nickname chipmunk until the swelling finally fled my body.

Hi, Mr. Shinji. He motioned to a well-worn brown leather chair in front of a simple oak desk. I know my face looks pretty bad, but the doctor assured me the swelling will go down in a week or two.

He swallowed hard, the color draining from his face. Are you in pain?

My joints have a dull ache when they get cold. I rubbed my left knee for emphasis. But otherwise I’m feeling much better.

His face remained pale. Maybe I could use his apparent shock at my appearance to my advantage. I was hoping we could go over my independent study classes.

He brightened. Of course. You are scheduled for an art course and one elective that falls in line with your general education requirements.

"I have been lucky enough to meet the artist Kawana and I’m hoping to take lessons from him.

Mr. Shinji’s eyes widened. You know Kawana? He’s quite famous.

Yes. I met Kawanasan through his son who is a friend of my host brothers. I actually have painted with him once already.

Mr. Shinji fell back in his chair. Truly?

Yes. He invited me to paint with him again sometime. I will ask if I can meet with him weekly.

Mr. Shinji gave me a sideways glance as if I was pulling his leg. I would like to confirm that with Mr. Kawana.

Of course. Hashika gave me more than swollen cheeks, it also gave me leverage over the academy. Not to mention a significant boost in my confidence. If I could kick Hashika’s butt, I could do anything—even stop the war between good and evil.

And for your second course?

My confidence wavered for a second. I am not learning anything in my beginning Japanese class. I’d like to change my Japanese class to an independent study.

His eyes narrowed. Are you implying that Mrs. Masuda is an inferior teacher?

I’d love to tell him exactly that, but I thought better of it. No, not at all. But I want to become totally fluent in Japanese. I’m not interested in learning to write Kanji.

He chuckled. Do you know how many students have that same request—too many.

I rubbed my knee and sighed. Sorry, it’s a bit cold in the office.

My trick worked. Mr. Shinji pulled his planner off the top of a pile of papers teetering on his desk. Right. I will supervise your Japanese lessons. He scanned his calendar. Every Thursday after lunch I would like to meet with you in my office. He glared at me. Once you walk through the door not a word of English, understood?

Mr. Shinji had no idea I’d been trained by the best. No problem, sir.

He glanced at his watch and handed me my course schedule. You better get to your Japanese Art History class. I informed Mr. Ishigawa you would be late.

Thanks, Mr. Shinji. I flew out of the administrative building and raced across the courtyard toward the ivy-covered brick liberal arts building where my Art History class was located. I climbed to the fourth floor and blasted through the door just as the clock hit 8:35.

My teacher cleared his throat as he eyed me taking a seat in the back row. As I was saying, we will be covering all the art periods from Jomon to Meiji, but I will put an emphasis on the time when art in Japan reached its zenith. From the Momoyama period on.

Fantastic news. I had already taken a class online covering the Edo and Meiji periods back home. Nothing like getting a head start on my studies. Besides, they were by far my favorite art Japanese periods.

Mr. Ishigawa glanced my way. If you look at the course outline, the emphasis is clear.

I let out a sigh of relief knowing that the class would be one of my favorites. Mr. Ishigawa placed a slide up on the screen of an interesting piece of pottery from the Jomon period. As I stared at the hand-built vase, goosebumps formed on my arms. A crude face took up the front of the vessel. It reminded me of the one I saw in my dream this morning—the face of Death. Closing my eyes, I willed myself to calm down. When I opened my eyes again a different vase filled the screen. Still primitive and unglazed and likely from 300 BC, the picture reveled just a plain basic water jug. While the teacher scrolled through more slides of pottery objects from the Jomon period, I fought the feeling of dread building inside me. Would Death come after me like he promised?

The lunch bell rang breaking my mood. Dashing down the stairs as if Death himself was chasing me, I raced out into the courtyard hoping Gina and Setsuko would be hanging out in the lounge. Scanning the room, they were nowhere in sight. As I entered the main section of the student lounge, I was greeted by a totally different familiar face—Fudo. What the heck was he doing here?

He smiled and waved dressed in his favorite brown preppy trousers and sports coat. Erin, I am so glad I found you. I wanted to ask you out to lunch.

Fudo went to Kobe University clear across town. I bit my lip wondering why he was really here. Forcing a smile, I said, What a wonderful surprise. Let’s head to the Curry House before it gets any more crowded.

A few of the Harem girls gave Fudo the once over as we headed out the door. I forgot to some girls Fudo would be quite a catch. Despite Tori’s urging, I respected the fact that Fudo had a girlfriend.

We walked the two blocks to the restaurant at a brisk pace. The Curry House overflowed with students, but we were lucky and managed to grab a small table shoved in the very back of the restaurant. We ordered our chicken curry and then Fudo gave me a weak smile. I bet you want to know why I’m really here.

Bingo. I gave him a sheepish smile. It isn’t to see me?

He laughed. You know I never mind seeing you. But no, I was sent by Hiroshi.

Of course, I couldn’t help wondering why he was such a loyal friend to Hiroshi. Ever since the first time I saw them together, their friendship had me mystified. Okay, spit it out.

His brow furrowed. Fudo’s English had improved so much sometimes I forgot he didn’t understand American slang very well. I mean, tell me what Hiroshi wants.

He would like you to set up a date with Setsuko.

Crap. I so didn’t want those two to hook up. Does he have a million dollars?

Fudo chuckled. I can’t blame you for saying no. I don’t think they are a good match either.

Our chicken curry arrived and we both shoveled down our food. Neither of us wanted to continue the conversation about the possibility of Hiroshi and Setsuko dating. As I munched on a particularly large piece of potato, a light bulb went off. I might as well ask for a favor too. Umm… how’s your father doing?

Fudo stopped mid-chew and swallowed. He is quite healthy, why do you ask?

Well, I have an art independent study this semester and I need to find a teacher. So, I was wondering if your father might let me take a few lessons in his studio. I know he takes on private students.

Fudo put down his chopsticks. He does have two students at the moment, and that is usually his limit. He gave me a shy smile. But I can ask. He does think you are a good artist.

Kawanasan was probably being polite. I reached out and touched Fudo’s hand. I know it’s a huge favor.

He smiled. I will see what I can do.

We paid our bills, said our good-byes, and headed off in opposite directions. All I could do was hope Kawanasan would add one more student to his workload. I walked through the door of the student lounge and Setsuko and Gina descended on me like a pair of vultures. They had their arms stretched out as if they were a pair of wings blocking my path.

Setsuko glared at me. When were you going to tell us that you and Fudo were an item?

The school gossips, better known as the Harem, must have blabbed about seeing Fudo and I leave together. He was just in the area and asked me to lunch.

Gina sucked in a breath. What’s up with your face? Are you storing nuts in your cheeks?

Fudo was too polite to say anything about my puffy face. I should have known Gina wouldn’t have the same tact. I rubbed my cheek. The wonderful side effects of having Hashika.

Setsuko’s eyes scanned my face. You look like an animal—a chipmunk!

Boy did I have her pegged.

Gina chimed in. Your right, Sets. She has chipmunk cheeks.

I let out a sigh. At least they stopped the inquisition about Fudo. "The doctor said it should only last a couple weeks. So, don’t get too attached to calling me chipmunk cheeks.

Setsuko shifted her focus. Wait a sec, doesn’t Fudo go to Keo University? That’s clear across town.

Busted. My reprieve sure didn’t last long. He skipped class.

Setsuko tapped her red Mary Janes on the tile floor. What is really going on?

No way was I going to tell her the truth. Thanks to her Elvis fetish, she wanted to date Hiroshi as much as he wanted date with her. It’s the Moris. I threatened to leave the house by February and Hiroshi sent Fudo to find out if I was really going to leave.

Setsuko’s shoulders relaxed. Okay. I guess that makes sense. So, are you really escaping the family from hell? Has Mr. Shinji found you another host family? You said he was really ticked off at the Moris.

Talk about being bombarded with questions. Mr. Shinji said he would move me this semester, so I’m taking him at his word.

Setsuko jutted out her chin. If he doesn’t move you soon tell him you’ll sue the academy. That ought to put a fire under his butt.

Her anger filled me with happiness. Only someone who saw themselves as a true friend would get that invested in my predicament. "Right, lawyer Setsuko. I agree. But hopefully I won’t have to go that far.

Adam wandered over and gave Gina a big hug. We better head off to class.

Setsuko rolled her eyes as they walked away. They’ve been rubbing it in ever since they found out they were in social science class together.

I watched them holding hands as they left. I think it’s super cute.

Whatever. Setsuko turned her attention back to me. Hey, did your friend fly back to Idaho? I wish I could have met her.

Such thoughtfulness coming from Setsuko surprised me. She really must consider me a friend. After the grueling time she spent teaching me Japanese, I thought it might have set us back a bit. It made me happy to know it actually brought us closer together. Thanks for asking. Tori left a couple of days ago. She wanted to meet you and Gina. There just wasn’t enough time since she decided to travel to Fukuoka and visit her family.

Setsuko’s eyes widened. Right. It was on her list. Did you find anything hidden in the family closet?

I swore to Tori I wouldn’t tell her secret to anyone. One of her cousins doesn’t wear underwear.

She burst out laughing. That is a secret that should have remained hidden.

That’s for sure.

Setsuko glanced at her Hello Kitty watch. Guess I better start heading off to Advanced Japanese. Where are you headed?

I have Japanese class too.

Good luck. She chuckled. Hope you learn more than how to read the train signs.

Little did she know where my Japanese class was going to be held—a Love Hotel. I eyed Kenzo as he finished up one of his stories and the Harem scattered in all directions to get to their classes. Sneaking up behind him, I put my hands over his eyes. Guess who?

He gently pulled my hands away from his face. Case two hundred seventy-eight I presume.

Another old-time reference—Sherlock Holmes no less. I thought I should play along. Yes, tis I. And what, pray tell, are you up to?

Dressed in his usual skintight black leather rocker uniform, he gave me his most charming smile. Anything you want. But don’t you have class?

"I have managed to convince Mr. Shinji to let me change my Japanese class to