Fifty Words for Rain Read online

  When Akiko returned to collect the dishes, Nori made a great spectacle of pretending to have a headache. As she’d predicted, it was suggested that she take some aspirin and go to bed.

  She spent the next several hours playing one of her favorite games with herself. She sat cross-legged on the bed waiting for evening to fade to dark, thinking of the stories that her mother used to tell her. One of her few memories of the time before was her mother telling her about a big black ship and how God had come to their family. The reason this memory was so distinct was because it was the only time her mother had ever mentioned being part of a family.

  Nori did not know how much of the Bible she actually believed, though she knew that very thought to be sacrilege. But she liked the stories. And she liked the constant access to conversation, albeit one-sided.

  It occurred to her then that she had not spoken so much as a single word to God since Akira’s arrival. She sprang from the bed and scrambled over to the corner where she said her prayers. She could not risk lighting a candle. It was dark enough now for her to proceed with her plan.

  She struggled to think of an adequate apology for being so remiss of late. Looking at poor, sad Jesus hung on the cross like that made her guilt flare up instantly.

  I’m sorry, God. You must be very angry with me. Please forgive me. I am a wicked, wicked girl for being happy that Oniichan is here because his father died. I did not know the man, but if Mother liked him, I am certain that he was very nice. I would very much like it if you could bring Mother back, now that Akira-san and I are all together. I’m sorry for what I’m about to do. I know it is a sin to disobey, so please forgive me that also. I will pray more often. Thank you for listening.

  Amen,

  Noriko

  When she had finished her prayer, Nori resolved herself to the task at hand.

  Somehow, she was going to find Akira and get him to talk to her. She knew that her grandmother would defer to his wishes, if only he asked. It was likely the boy had no idea how much power he wielded. With a few simple words, he could change everything.

  She took one last look at her surroundings before turning towards the stairs. Rather than lifting her feet, she chose to slide forward in her socks.

  A floorboard creaked beneath her. She stopped at once.

  No one needed to remind her of the consequences if she was caught sneaking about the house.

  Unable to think of a better alternative, she dropped to her knees and began crawling on all fours. She felt ridiculous, but she noticed that the creaking noises stopped. She made her way down the stairs slowly, knowing full well that if she were to fall, it would wake the entire house.

  She was able to get the door to the second floor open without much difficulty. She pressed herself against it until it opened. And here she faced her first challenge. Leave the door open, or close it and risk making a sound? After chewing her lip for a few moments, she decided to leave it open.

  She took care to press herself as close to the wall as possible, crawling down the hallway like a toddler. These floorboards were sturdier and better kept, as her grandmother had the main floors of the house scrubbed and polished weekly. There was not a single speck of dust to be found, and the wood was in excellent condition; Nori could not help but notice that it shone like sunlit glass even in the darkness.

  She didn’t have much of a concrete plan for discovering which of the rooms she had narrowed it down to belonged to her brother. When she’d conceived the plan, she’d done so out of desperation. There had been less thought behind it and more need.

  Had she not been so low to the ground, she might not have seen it: the faint light emanating from beneath the door closest to the railing.

  Her breath hitched in her throat. Was it actually going to be this easy for her? But what if it wasn’t him? But then, who else could it be? No, it had to be his room.

  She inched forward, quicker now, acutely aware that she was in plain view of anyone viewing from the proper angle beneath her.

  When she reached the door, she hesitated. After several moments of sitting in a stupor, she maneuvered into kneeling position and knocked twice on the door. She took great care to knock lightly, half hoping that she would not be heard and that it was not too late to renege on this fool plan of hers.

  There was a stirring behind the door, and for a moment, Nori felt as if she might bolt in the opposite direction. The door opened, and Akira looked down at her in evident confusion. He was wearing dark red pajamas, and she was immediately racked with guilt, wondering if she had woken him.

  Akira looked at her for a long moment. “Do you normally do things like this?”

  Nori felt her cheeks blaze in the darkness. “I’m sorry. I . . .”

  Akira let out a deep sigh and motioned for her to come inside the room. She scurried past him, and he shut the door behind her.

  It was quite a nice room—very spacious, with large windows and an impressive king-sized bed with plum-colored drapes. Both bedside lamps were on. Piled atop the mahogany dresser were sheets of white paper with curvy black markings. There was a cardboard box filled with books next to it that looked to be half unpacked. And leaned up against the desk was a black case.

  “What’s that thing?” she blurted out before she could help herself.

  Akira gave her a truly incredulous look that made her shrink back. “I play the violin,” he said. “Noriko, what are you doing here?”

  “Ah . . . I was just . . . I mean, I thought we could talk.”

  Akira crossed his arms. “Talk.”

  “Yes, talk. I mean . . . we do have the same mother.” It sounded weak, even to her. She tugged on one of her braids.

  “I really don’t see what that has to do with you knocking on my door at three thirty in the morning.”

  Nori bit the inside of her left cheek in an attempt to steady herself. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

  Akira shrugged, a gesture that both fascinated her and served to make her blush.

  “I wasn’t sleeping. I was going over some sheet music.”

  Nori fidgeted, unsure what he was referring to. Akira pointed to the sheets of paper on the dresser.

  “It’s Bach.”

  She blinked at him. “What is that?”

  “A composer. He lived a long time ago.”

  “Oh. Okay.”

  Akira locked eyes with her, and it took a conscious effort on her part not to turn away.

  “You must’ve had a good reason for coming. What is it?”

  “Obaasama likes you.”

  Sadly, she could not think of a way to state her purpose with more finesse. Her only hope was that Akira would somehow grow to find her ineptitude endearing.

  The boy in front of her snorted harshly. “Well, yes, I suppose she does. She did insist that I come live with her.”

  Nori hesitated, not wanting to say too much but unable to help herself. The curiosity she had suppressed for years seemed to be leaking out of her very pores. “Did you not want to?”

  Akira raised a dark eyebrow and looked at her as if she were a stray cat who’d wandered into his kitchen. “Did I want to come live in the middle of nowhere with a woman I’ve only met twice in my life?”

  She could only stare back at him blankly, sure she was missing something but unsure what it was. Akira rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand.

  “I forget you’re only ten,” he mumbled. “Apparently sarcasm is lost on you. I’m assuming you wanted to ask me something?”

  Nori realized that it was now or never. There was no point mincing her words.

  “I wanted to ask you if you would talk to her. She would listen to you. If you would . . . if you would please ask her if it would be okay for us to talk.”

  Now it was Akira’s turn to stare blankly. “We are talking.”

 
; “Well, yes. Yes, we are. But I’m not . . . I’m not supposed to be here. She told me that I couldn’t talk to you unless you talked to me first and . . . well . . . you didn’t. And I’m not allowed to leave my room without permission.”

  Akira dropped his head into his hands. “Oh, hell.”

  The profane statement caught Nori off guard. She shrank back at once, sure that she had angered him. But he wasn’t even looking at her. He was staring at a spot located past her head, brow creased in a tense frown. She managed to catch snippets of his grumblings every now and then. She caught the words “backwards” and “archaic.” She didn’t know what “archaic” meant, but she did pick up on the exasperation in his tone.

  Nori did not dare speak. She waited in silence for him to address her.

  After a brief pause, her patience was rewarded. He let out a deep sigh and gave her a tired look.

  “Noriko,” he said, “that isn’t how the world works.”

  She cocked her head to one side, uncomprehending. “It’s not?”

  “No. You don’t need her permission to talk to me.”

  “I know. I need yours.”

  “That’s not . . . No. You’re missing the point.”

  Nori felt herself beginning to panic. “I am?”

  Akira did something then that she was completely unprepared for. He closed the distance between them in a few deft steps and rested his hand on her shoulder. She went stiff as a board for a split second before melting effortlessly into his touch. Right then and there, she decided that she loved him.

  “You don’t need permission to talk to me. That’s stupid.”

  Nori was only half listening to what he was saying. She was preoccupied with the warm, liquid-like sensation that was overtaking her body.

  “Hai, Oniichan.”

  “And why on earth can’t you leave your room? Are you being punished for something?”

  She really didn’t know why she was surprised. Of course her grandmother hadn’t explained the rules to Akira—they didn’t apply to him. And so when Nori went down the list of rules in as dignified a manner as she could muster, she watched Akira’s reaction carefully. She watched his facial expression shift from bemusement to skepticism to pure incredulous disbelief.

  “You’re telling me that that old crone hasn’t let you out of this house in nearly three years? Not at all? Not so much as two steps out the front door?”

  Nori shook her head. She bit her lip as she watched him, trying to figure out what to say next.

  “So is that why you came, then? To get me to do something about it?”

  She shook her head again. The more she thought about it, the more she realized that this idea had been ill-fated from the start. Whatever plan she might have once had was now gone.

  “No, Oniichan. I just wanted to talk to you.”

  Akira’s lips curled upwards. “Talk to me?”

  “Hai.”

  “Well then. If you don’t mind, I’d like to get some sleep.”

  Nori flushed a deep shade of mottled purple. She bowed abruptly and stammered several apologies, all of which earned her nothing but another smirk. She made her way to the door and placed her hand on the knob.

  “People call you Nori, don’t they?”

  She turned to look at him, taking a minute to process the question. She didn’t know what “people” he could possibly be referring to. And she didn’t know exactly what they called her, but she was quite sure that she didn’t want to know either. Her grandmother had used the nickname once or twice, but it seemed odd that she’d share this information with Akira. Rather than try to figure it out, she decided to simply answer the question.

  “My . . . Our mother called me Nori.”

  Akira looked at her for a brief moment before waving a hand in dismissal.

  “All right, well. I just wanted to know. Good night.”

  “Good night, Oniichan.”

  * * *

  When her grandmother decided to show up unannounced two days later, in the wee hours of the morning, Nori was positive that her disobedience had been found out.

  She didn’t even bother to get upset. When she opened her eyes to the vision of the old woman standing before her in a somber black yukata, she simply climbed out of bed and bowed low. For once, she was not shaking. There was no beating on earth that would make her regret what she had done.

  Her grandmother’s lips were pursed tight, and she took care not to look at Nori when she spoke. Her hands were coiled together like the knotted branches of a tree.

  “It has come to my attention that a . . . child . . . of your age must be allowed a certain amount of exercise. Therefore, you will be allowed to roam the house from the hours of nine a.m. to five o’clock p.m. Akiko-san will supervise you at all times. Under no circumstance are you to touch anything without permission. Stay out of the way of the staff, they have no time for your nonsense. If you disturb things, I will discipline you. If you break anything, I will discipline you. If you attempt to leave this house, I will remove the skin from your bastard bones. Do you understand?”

  Nori’s head snapped up, and she looked at her grandmother in a dumb stupor. Despite the threats, despite the pure, unadulterated spite that was admittedly quite unusual for her stoic guardian, she only really heard one thing.

  “I can go?”

  Yuko’s brow twitched. “Within the guidelines I have set for you. You will be informed in advance which days are acceptable for you to take your exercise.”

  Translation: the days when her grandfather was away at the capital. There were many things in this house that went over her head, but she was one hundred percent certain that he was not aware of this new development.

  But that didn’t matter so much. She tugged at one of her wiry curls, trying not to betray her budding sense of satisfaction. Just because she would tolerate a punishment, it didn’t mean that she was going to encourage one.

  “Arigatou gozaimasu.”

  Her grandmother ignored the pleasantry. She turned and left as quickly as possible. Nori had to admire how quiet her grandmother managed to be, even when she was all but bolting from a room.

  A few hours later, Akiko appeared. Nori all but tossed her book on the floor in her frenzy to get across the room.

  “Are we going now?”

  “Yes.”

  “Where will we go?” she demanded. If this newfound autonomy didn’t take her to where Akira was, it was as worthless as tainted drinking water.

  “Your brother is most likely in the kitchen, little madam.”

  Nori’s mind tried to conjure up an image of the kitchen for reference and could not. She jutted out her bottom lip. It struck her that she had never been in there before, thus the reason she was drawing a blank. She had a vague memory of another kitchen, in the time before. Her mother hadn’t really liked to cook. Most nights, she would bring food home. The noodles were always too salty and the rice was always dry. But she did remember that they would get ants in the kitchen every summer and her mother would spray them with a bottle of water and vinegar. The whole apartment would smell of vinegar for days.

  The memories were coming back to her, one by one, as if to herald the arrival of another piece of the puzzle her mother had left her.

  She started towards the stairs, and Akiko fell into step behind her. She didn’t falter at the first set of stairs, or the second, or the third. She marched with the purpose of a soldier. All of her previous hesitation seemed to have evaporated into thin air.

  She proceeded down the stairs as quickly as she could without dragging poor Akiko down completely. The bottoms of her feet became very sweaty all of a sudden in her socks. She paused at the landing, removed the socks, and offered them to Akiko. Akiko took them without a word and slipped them into her apron pocket.

  Realizing that she, in fact, did not k
now where the kitchen was, Nori waited as patiently as she could for Akiko to lead the way. As the maid took her hand and led her down the long, winding hallways, Nori couldn’t help but notice how nice the house smelled.

  She spotted some flowers in a vase on a mahogany end table. They were a soft white with a small butter-yellow center, and they smelled of rain. She was possessed with a fierce urge to run them underneath her fingers.

  It had been many years since she’d seen flowers this close up. She didn’t remember what they felt like, if she’d ever known.

  “Akiko-san, what are those?”

  The maid looked behind her absently before they turned a corner. “Those? Those are kiku no hana. Chrysanthemums. They are the sigil of the imperial family, your cousins. Your grandmother always keeps them around the house.”

  “They’re pretty. Are they very noble, then?”

  “Yes, they are.”

  “And Grandmother is royal, isn’t she, Akiko-san?”

  “She is, little madam. She has royal blood in her. She is very proud of it.”

  Vaguely, Nori wondered if that meant she had royal blood in her too. But somehow she didn’t think so. Somewhere along the way, it had been diluted out of her. Something had canceled it out, and that’s why things were the way they were.

  The kitchen was separated into two parts, one part counters and cooking appliances (she counted three ovens). There were two women standing there, chopping vegetables. They didn’t look up at her when she walked in.

  Then there was another part, a little off to the side, surrounded by large windows and a skylight above. The windows were hung with sheer curtains, long and billowing in the slight breeze. The sunlight flickered through them, and Nori could see the dust particles in the air. There was a round silver-rimmed glass table with more chrysanthemums in a vase resting in the center. There were plush silver-backed chairs with luscious white cushions around the table. Nori counted six.

  And there, in the chair closest to the wall, was her brother.

  He had his head buried in a book, long lashes casting the slightest hint of a shadow on his face. His dark hair was messy, as if hastily combed through once or twice, more to get the task out of the way than to actually tame it. He wore a plain short-sleeved button-down the color of the summer sky and white shorts. She let out a little gasp.