Fifty Words for Rain(17)

“No, Oniichan.”

Akira studied her for another moment, with those sharp gray eyes of his. It made her skin tingle. But the sensation was not entirely unpleasant.

“Your hair. Did you do it yourself?”

Nori perked up instantly. “Yes.”

Akira noted her reaction with obvious amusement. He reached out a hand and fingered one of her braids lightly, brushing her ear as he did so. Something inside of her stretched and broke at his touch.

“It’s nice.”

Akira turned his eyes from her hair back to her face. His eyes went wide with something Nori couldn’t interpret. She could only look at him, helpless. Helpless to move, helpless to speak. Faintly, she felt something touch her hand. But it felt like it was happening in a separate reality, in a place that was somehow irrevocably disconnected from this one.

“Nori . . . you’re crying.”

Akira’s voice was gentle and unassuming. If anything, he sounded confused. His previous sarcastic edge was gone.

Her lips parted in an attempt to voice words, but nothing came. She looked down at her hand, resting on the table. There were indeed two drops of water there. But that was impossible. She had absolutely no reason to be crying. There was no pain.

Nori heard someone whimper softly, and to her horror, she realized it was her. She jerked a hand up to her face and swiped at the tears that had collected on her cheeks, wiping them away frantically. She tried to force out an apology, only to be met with a ragged sob. It was getting away from her. Everything was getting away from her, and it was cracked and broken and lying on the floor.

Oh, God.

Why? Why are you crying? Stop it. Stop it, stop it. Not in front of him. You’re ruining it. You’re . . .

Akira watched her sob in silence. She sat like that, curled in her chair, sobbing for no apparent reason for the next hour straight.

Every time she attempted to catch her breath or speak, the sobs threatened to strangle the life out of her lungs. She resorted to her old technique: relinquishing herself to the tears and letting them wash over her in waves until they were done. If the spectacle she was creating was attracting attention from the help, she didn’t notice. Nor did she particularly care. She balled her fist into her mouth and bit down in an effort to stop the pathetic mewing sounds emitting from it. She tasted a mixture of bitter salt, from the blood and tears that had mingled together.

She wished someone would order her to stop. Because on her own, left here to her own devices, she did not know if she would ever be able to. It felt as if a flood had broken free and now would not relent until it had sucked her down into its depths. She had nothing to hold on to as it tossed her about.

Finally, the racking gasps and sobs began to subside. She could feel that her face was hot and red. Her eyes burned with tears; her lashes felt sticky, and they clung to her face like spidery tendrils. She found it hard to keep her eyes open at all.

Wordlessly, Akira handed her a handkerchief that he drew from his pocket. She took it with shaking hands and wiped her cheeks, unable to look at him. It was over. Before it had even begun, she had destroyed any chance she might have had at making him respect her.

“Thank you, Oniichan.”

Akira studied her with, as far as she could tell, perfect neutrality.

“Are you hungry?”

Nori looked at him in disbelief, sure that she had misheard.

“Hungry?” Her vocal cords thrummed in protest as she spoke. Her throat was completely raw.

“I’m starving, myself. I’m sure you like ice cream. All little girls like ice cream. Chocolate or vanilla?”

She looked him in the eyes, trying and failing to read them. He was simply Akira, with his usual serene expression and faintly curled lips.

“I’ve never had ice cream.”

If Akira was surprised, he did not show it. He got up and turned his back to her, going to the icebox and rummaging around it. One of the servants stepped forward and offered to help him find what he was looking for. He waved her away.

Nori looked away from what he was doing, swollen eyes focusing on the book he’d left behind. It was a book of poetry. Forgetting herself, she reached forward and turned a page.

“It’s Kazunomiya-sama. Have you read her work before?”

Nori retreated back into her position, not wanting to embarrass herself further. Akira took his seat beside her and placed a bowl of what looked like a creamy rice ball in front of her.

“No, Oniichan.”

“It might be a little advanced for you, but you can read it if you like. I can help you with it. Here, eat.”

Nori obeyed, placing a spoonful of the dessert in her mouth. It was creamy and sweet, sweeter than anything she’d ever tasted. The cold, while startling, soothed her aching throat. She finished the entire bowl within minutes. Akira handed her a napkin. Without looking at her, he pushed out his chair. It made no sound as it scraped across the floor.

“I’m going upstairs to read.”

He got up and walked away without looking back at her, leaving the book open on the table. She hesitated for half a second, before tucking it under her arm and following.





CHAPTER FOUR


    “AVE MARIA”




Kyoto, Japan

Winter/Spring 1951

They called her his shadow. She knew because she heard them whisper disparagingly behind their hands when she passed in the hall. Sometimes, when they were feeling less than kind, they called her his dog.