Fifty Words for Rain(112)

“Is that why you called me across the world?” she said bitterly. “To prove yourself right?”

The ghost smiled wryly. “No. I called you here because I’m dying.”

She paused, clearly expecting Nori to say something. When she did not get a response, she laughed, dissolving into a cough as she did so. She pressed a handkerchief to her mouth, and it came away stained with black blood.

“You’ve changed,” she said, and Nori could swear she sounded amused. “You’ve lost your shyness.”

Nori shut her eyes for a brief moment. She knew they were still far too honest.

“I have lost many things.”

“And about the exile . . . you will understand, of course. I was upset. I was understandably upset.”

Nori looked at her blankly. There was nothing to say about this. There could never be any forgiveness, not in the least because Yuko hadn’t even truly apologized. Nor would she. It seemed to be a theme in this family that Nori was the only person who ever had to be sorry.

She let it pass.

Yuko went somber and dabbed at her mouth with the clean side of the handkerchief. “I was very sorry,” she says. “Very sorry to lose Akira-san.”

Nori gritted her teeth. “Don’t you dare,” she whispered, feeling her rage pick up like the winds of a storm. “Don’t you dare say his name.”

“I loved him,” Yuko protested. “He was my special boy.”

“You didn’t know the first thing about him. You never saw him, he was just a thing to you!”

“I knew him,” Yuko seethed. “I knew him, you insolent girl. He was mine, after all.”

Nori threw herself at the bedpost, gripping it with both shaking hands. “HE WAS NOT YOURS!”

Her grandmother gasped. “How dare you—”

Nori was beyond caring. For years, thinking of Akira had been treacherous. She’d avoided it with every ounce of her being. But now she allowed the barrier to come down. The flood hit her full force, and she could scarcely stand.

“His favorite color was blue. His favorite composer was Beethoven. He didn’t eat anything without wasabi. He loved the heat more than the cold. His favorite orchestra was the Berlin Philharmonic. He took his coffee black. He never liked gardens until he met me. And he hated, hated you.”

Yuko was silent before this onslaught, her lips moving aimlessly.

“You would be so cruel to a dying woman?” she gasped. “You would tell me such poisonous lies!”

Nori said nothing else because she could not speak. Her heart had lodged itself in her throat, and she was shaking with indignation.

You fool. She hasn’t changed. She’ll never change. The way she sees the world is set in stone.

“Well, he is dead now,” Nori said coldly, and the words pierced her through. “So it doesn’t matter. He is dead, and what he was and what he would’ve been are dead with him.”

Her grandmother narrowed her eyes. “You loved him,” she said, and it was clear she was realizing it for the first time. “You really did love him.”

Nori did not dignify this with a response.

Yuko made a terrible wheezing sound. “I thought if I let him amuse himself with you for a while, play his music, he’d come home eventually. I thought—”

Nori cut her off. “Tell me why you summoned me here,” she said sharply. “No more games. If it’s to kill me, do it already.”

Yuko leaned back on the pillows, her rage spent.

“I have a proposition for you.”

“Yes. You wish to leave the estate to me. I suppose that’s slightly more tolerable than seeing it given to the state and divided up.”

Her grandmother started to speak but broke off. She coughed, and this time, she doubled over and started shaking like a woman possessed.

Nori looked around the room for some water and then turned to the door, thinking that she would call for someone, but Yuko’s hand darted out and gripped Nori’s sleeve.

She stared at her grandmother in absolute shock.

“Don’t,” the old woman gasped pitifully. “Don’t go.” Nori turned back to her and waited until the coughing subsided. As soon as it had finished, she stepped back.

“You should rest,” she said softly, and she hated the way her tone was tinged with sympathy.

“I have a long rest ahead of me,” Yuko said bleakly. “Time enough for that. I need to prepare you.”

Nori’s ears pricked up. “What?”

Her grandmother looked as if she was stunned that it wasn’t obvious. “You’re my heir.”

Nori’s heart was beating wildly now. “All I have to do is sign some papers for the money.”

Yuko rolled her eyes. “I’m not talking about the money, girl,” she snapped. “I’m leaving you everything, don’t you understand? The titles, the family businesses, the land. That means you must stay here. You must live here and live as I have lived.”

“What?” Nori asked, stupid as a dairy cow. “What?”

“And you must marry. Immediately, as soon as possible—how old are you? Twenty-four, nearly twenty-five? Anyway, you must marry. You have some distant cousins who will be suitable. I will show you pictures. You can choose the one you like best.” She nodded, as if pleased with her own generosity. “I never allowed your mother this freedom.”