Fifty Words for Rain(107)

Nori leaned back against the tree and inspected the letter in her lap.

It looked benign enough from the outside. There was nothing but the address and her name. No return address.

She slid her pinkie finger beneath the seal and opened it.

Immediately, she felt the blood whoosh out of her body, as surely as if someone had sliced both her wrists.

Because the letter was written in Japanese.

Her vision swam. She felt a strong urge to retch and barely choked it back.

It was a long time before she could read the letter in her shaking hands.


Lady Noriko,

Please be informed that your honored grandmother, the Lady Yuko Kamiza, is dead. Your grandfather, Kohei Kamiza, is also dead, having died in 1959.

Your lady grandmother has assigned to you all of her worldly goods, as well as those goods previously belonging to your half brother. You must return to Kyoto immediately upon receipt of this letter to collect them.

If you do not return, we will send an escort for you.

It would be better for you to come peacefully.

Once you have done what is necessary, you will be free of us. You have our word on the souls of the ancestors that no harm will come to you.

We look forward to seeing you soon, at the estate in Kyoto.

You remember.

Sincerely,

The Kamiza Estate Trust



Her grandmother was dead.

A deep grief washed over her, not because there was any love between them, but because the last person in the world who shared her blood was gone.

She crumpled up the letter.

Every part of her wanted to ignore it. She had no desire to return to Japan, the country that had been so bitterly unkind to her. She wanted to believe that if she just pretended she had never received it, that all of this would go away. She wanted to believe that she had a choice.

But she knew better. She would have to go.

In just a moment, the fear had returned, wrapping her up in its dark arms.

Ah, my dear, she heard it whisper. Did you miss me?



* * *





“But why do you have to go?” Alice pouted. “The wedding is in three weeks!”

“I’ll be back before then,” Nori assured her. She swept some clothes into her suitcase in a disorganized heap. “I’ll fly there, collect my money, and come straight back.”

If she hurried, she could catch the very last flight out for the day. First class was never full. She wanted it over with.

“I could give you money,” Alice grumbled, “if you’d accept it.”

“One trip and I will never need a penny from you again,” Nori assured her. “I’ll be rich beyond my imaginings. And most importantly, I will be done with my family forever.”

But Alice was not convinced. “And is that the only reason you’re going?”

“Of course,” Nori said curtly. She tucked her hair up in a bun. It had grown out again and she could hardly manage it. “Why else?”

Alice hesitated. “You aren’t hoping for some kind of . . . acceptance?”

She scoffed. “Don’t be ridiculous. And in any case, the last person who could give it to me is dead. I hope for nothing but to collect my filthy blood money and be done with it.”

Her friend relented. “Well, you have certainly earned it.”

They shared a long embrace.

“Be careful,” she said fervently. “I don’t like you going into that lions’ den.”

Nori managed a smile that radiated a confidence she did not feel.

“But look now, Alice,” she said brightly. “I have become a lion too. The very last one, as it turns out. And so now I will be safe.”


June 1965

It was not until she was forced to sit still for so many hours that the panic truly set in. It was strange to hear people speaking her native tongue after all of this time. No one recognized her as Japanese, it seemed, with her tan skin and curly hair; everyone spoke to her in English.

After all of this time away, perhaps she had become a foreigner in truth. It took her longer than it should to read in Japanese, and though she could understand, she sometimes hesitated to find the right words.

Nori looked around at the wealthy businessmen and their wives, many of them happy American and European couples on holiday.

The war, it seemed, had finally been forgotten. Every country in the world had changed almost beyond recognition.

If she were a betting woman, she would lay money down that the Japan her grandmother had clung to so fiercely was finally gone.

In her travels, she had seen firsthand the culture war between the old and the new. The young people went around with long hair and short dresses above the knee, holding hands and kissing in public, while the old people gave them horrified looks. Though some had given her suspicious glances, most people had taken her money with a smile.

It seemed like that was the great equalizer after all.

She wondered what had happened to Kyoto, the city of tradition, the old capital.

She wondered if it would be any kinder to her than it had been before.

Her stomach churned, and she gulped down some seltzer water. It had been bothering her for weeks now, but that wasn’t unusual. Something always hurt.

In the empty seat beside her was Akira’s violin, secure in its case. She had been carrying it around with her for years, never letting it leave her side, though she never dreamed of playing it. She wouldn’t soil it. Not that too. She had done quite enough.