Fifty Words for Rain(14)

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?”