Fifty Words for Rain(108)

Tucked neatly inside her purse was her mother’s last diary, bound with her white ribbon. She wore her grandmother’s pearls, cold and heavy against her neck. And though she had never known her father, there was a sprig of white dogwood tucked into her hat. It was the state flower of Virginia, the place he’d left to come to Japan, where she had been born and he had died.

This was what was left of the family that might have been, in a kinder world than this. This was how she kept their ghosts close to her.

Nori fell into an uneasy sleep.

She dreamed of the faceless woman calling her name, of glittering broken glass stained with innocent blood, of fire and snow and light.

When she woke up, there were tears on her face. The plane had landed. Outside of her window, she could see the Japanese flag flying high.

And so she waited to feel it—that sweet familiarity that could only come from returning to the nest. The rush of warmth.

But she felt nothing.

When she loaded her belongings into the taxi and gave the driver the address, he gave her a startled look in the mirror.

“But that’s the Kamiza estate.”

She swept her hair back to reveal the shape of her face, her mother’s face.

“Hai. Shitteimasu. Please take me there.”

“It’s not open to tourists,” he told her, not unkindly. “If you want to see one of the old palaces, I can take you somewhere else, miss.”

She met his gaze. “Sir. I know very well what it is. I have come by invitation.”

He looked at her, truly looked at her for the first time. A spark of recognition lit up his face.

“You’re from here?” It sounded more like a statement than a question.

“I am,” she said quietly.

He smiled at her and said nothing else. That was one thing she had always loved about her people. They knew when to be quiet.

She looked out the window and watched Kyoto pass her by. It struck her that she had never seen the city before, not truly. So much of it had been kept from her.

And so she watched, with a keen fascination she had not felt in a long time.

She saw the charming cobblestone streets, the grand temples, the trees of deepest green and noble purple and scarlet red. She saw miko shrine maidens in their distinctive garb and children running around wearing overalls, all side by side.

She saw bright billboard lights and dimly lit candles at makeshift altars, with paper prayers hanging above them. She saw street carts and gourmet restaurants, stray dogs and horses moving past one another in the street.

And she saw the water.

She rolled down the window, and the salty smell washed over her.

Nori realized now that there was no need to wonder which side of the culture war had claimed victory in her city.

Kyoto was Kyoto.

The car pulled over to the side of the road and stopped.

Before she could lose her nerve, Nori stepped out.

The house was exactly the same. It didn’t seem right. After everything that had happened, it didn’t seem right that it could remain so untouched.

The fear lapped at her heels. There was only one thing to do.

She handed the driver his fee and took her few belongings from his hands.

“Arigatou.”

He bowed very low to her. “Have you been away long, my lady?”

My lady.

She managed a tiny smile, but she knew her eyes were sad.

“Yes. I have.”

He bowed again. “Well then. Okaerinasaimase. Welcome home.”



* * *





This was her beginning.

Nori stood in the shadow of the great house with her feet rooted to the ground.

Absolutely nothing about this place had changed. But she had. She did not look over her shoulder; there was no merciless light to hold her in place.

Be brave.

There were only ghosts here now.

The gates had all been left open. She marched up the walkway, her head held as high as a soldier’s.

It was not until she raised her hand to knock on the front door that the wave of nausea hit her, so powerful that it could not be ignored. She turned to the side, doubled over, and retched.

Her eyes welled with tears, but she willed them back. She took her handkerchief out of her pocket and wiped her mouth.

Her head swam, but she forced herself to stand up straight.

As she had learned to do so long ago, she gathered every last bit of her strength around her like a cloak.

And then Nori knocked.

In an instant, the door flew open. Standing there was a plump woman in her late forties, with streaks of gray in her dark hair. Her maid’s uniform had a spot of jam on the apron.

“My God,” she breathed.

There was no mistaking her.

“It’s good to see you, Akiko-san.”

Akiko threw open her arms, and Nori fell into them. They stood that way, both shaking, for a long time.

“I’m so sorry,” the maid sobbed. “I’m so sorry, little madam.”

Nori shook her head. There was nothing Akiko could have done. In this world, there were those with power and those without.

“I don’t blame you,” she said simply.

Akiko drew her inside by both hands, shouting at someone to fetch the gentlemen, and refreshments.

Before Nori could blink, someone had taken her things and run them up the stairs.