Fifty Words for Rain(11)

“Yes,” she managed to respond, in a voice so clear that it actually startled her. “I am.”

It seemed that at some point, her body had reached its maximum capacity for panic. As a result, it ceased to register. She felt herself go blissfully numb.

Akira’s brow furrowed slightly, but he did not appear to be vexed. It seemed more like a habit than a reaction to anything she had done.

“They tell me that you’re supposed to be my sister.”

Nori could feel her nails cutting into her palms through the fabric of the dress. And still, she could muster no feeling because no feeling could ever be adequate for this.

“You look like her,” Akira remarked casually. He took a step towards her before seemingly thinking better of it and halting. “Or at least, as much as you could.”

“I don’t remember,” Nori managed. “I can’t remember her face. I try, but I can’t.”

The boy in front of her looked as if he might say something but stopped short. He took two more steps towards her. Nori could feel him towering over her; he was at least a foot and a half taller than she was.

The ticking of the grandfather clock beside her seemed obscenely loud all of a sudden. It filled up her eardrums, selfishly hogging their attention.

“What year were you born?”

Nori let out a startled little hiccup. Akira waited patiently for a response, seemingly unperturbed by her stammering. It took her a moment to do the math, scaling backwards in time to find her origin.

“Nineteen forty,” she finally concluded, flushing with pride at being able to figure it out. Her birthday was one of those things she didn’t think about very often. She knew it was when the warm months came, but it didn’t interest her much.

“Nineteen forty,” Akira repeated bleakly. “Just before things got really bad. Makes sense.”

Nori’s mounting confusion must have been palpable because Akira shrugged his shoulders, a distinctly Western gesture. She knew because she had read it in one of her books about manners.

“Go figure. They haven’t told you anything, have they? About what happened when you were born?”

Nori was completely unequipped for this line of questioning. She just looked at him, gaping helplessly and trying to rack her brains for an answer that would please him. Predictably, she came up with nothing.

“I’m sorry . . . I don’t understand.”

Akira shrugged again. Nori felt her heart attempt to vacate her chest and drop into her socks.

“I can read,” she blurted out. The color began to rise in her cheeks. She had hoped to conceal her trademark knack for annoying those around her for just a little while longer.

Akira blinked at her. “What?”

“I can read,” she repeated, like a total imbecile. She had already botched the thing completely; it seemed only logical to keep going. “I read books about Tokyo. I know that you used to live there. Kyoto is not very interesting in comparison, I’m afraid. But I don’t really know because I’ve never been into the city. I’ve . . . never been anywhere, really, but you can find things to do, if you try. Did you know there is a summer festival coming up? Akiko-san . . . Akiko-san is one of the maids here, she is very nice . . . everyone who works here will be so happy you are here. Grandmother has always been sorry not having a boy in the house, she will be thrilled. But anyway, Akiko-san sometimes brings me the newspaper when everyone else is done with it. I know there was a war going on before I was born . . . when I was little. I know . . . that’s part of the reason I look like I do. I have something to do with that war. But I’m a good girl, for the most part. Okaasan said so herself. When she comes back, maybe I can ask her about the rest. But it’s good now because we’re in the same place and she can get us both at the same time. Oh, and we have a pond in the backyard, with fish and everything. It really isn’t so bad here, I mean. It’s not so bad.”

She finally brought herself to look up at him. He met her gaze calmly, his porcelain face impossible to read. There was a serenity about his expression that Nori could not fully grasp. His demeanor, his stature . . . all were things that would ordinarily have frightened her. But he didn’t.

“You can read,” he repeated after her. If she didn’t know better, she would’ve said he sounded slightly amused.

Her skin burned so hot she wondered if he could feel it radiating off her. “Yes,” she whispered.

She could sense that Akiko had reentered the room. The maid stood dutifully behind her, pressed against the door. To the untrained eye, it might have looked like Akiko was waiting on Nori’s convenience. But Akiko never acted of her own volition. There was a greater hand behind it pulling the puppet strings and the message was clear.

It was time to go.

Nori resisted the urge to whimper. She had no way of knowing when she would be allowed to see Akira again. The knowledge that he was under the same roof but that she could no more access him than if he were on the far side of the moon seemed like a perverse practical joke.

She bowed once more, careful not to look at him as she rose up. She did not trust herself.

“Oyasumi nasai. Good night, Obocchama.”

“Good night.”

Nori swallowed the bile that had suddenly accumulated in her mouth. She turned around and walked back to where Akiko stood, taking the hand that was offered to her without question. Her caretaker offered up a mildly apologetic half smile.