Fifty Words for Rain(20)

There were some days when she thought she knew how to do that, even days when she fancied herself on the right track. But most of the time, she felt utterly lost. She clung to a tenuous standard, left to her in a conversation that she didn’t understand. It was possible she didn’t even remember it correctly. That, like so much else, it could have been twisted to a point where its true meaning was lost entirely.

But Nori didn’t like to think about it like that. She preferred, as she did with most things in life, to simply have faith. It was considerably less complicated.

When she finally fell into bed, she was so tired that sleep came instantly. This night there was no faceless woman calling to her from a small blue car that sped up every time she got close to it, her bare feet covered in blisters from the hot asphalt.

It was a relief not to dream.



* * *





Akira was waiting for her in the music room the next morning, directly after breakfast, which he had been conspicuously absent from.

He wore a short-sleeved navy blue button-down shirt and white shorts. He eyed her up and down when she entered, and she could not help but blush. She’d chosen her bright yellow yukata and her butter yellow ribbon. Rather than braiding her hair, she’d chosen to allow it to fall free. She wore the ribbon tied around her neck.

She bowed and greeted him, offering up a shy grin, hoping that he would notice all the care she’d taken to look pretty for him. He was clearly unimpressed.

“We’ll be starting at nine o’clock in the morning from now on. If you’re late, I’m leaving. Understood?”

Nori was caught off guard by such a blunt statement, but she nodded. She was learning to expect bluntness from Akira.

He gestured to a music stand, which he had lowered considerably so that it was around her eye level. She positioned herself in front of it, placing a tentative hand on the cool metal.

“You’re slouching.”

Nori arched her back and tucked her butt in, which earned her nothing but a clucking sound from Akira.

“Stand up straight. Relax your shoulders—no, no. Not like that, Noriko.”

She felt two firm hands grip her lower back.

“If you stand locked up like this, you’ll drop like a corpse on stage. Loosen up.”

Nori did as she was told, melding into his touch. His skin was always so warm, almost uncomfortably so. But she did not even think of pulling away. “Stage?”

Though she couldn’t see him standing behind her, she could almost hear her brother rolling his eyes.

“That’s the objective, yes. Otherwise there’s no point.”

“Have you been onstage?”

He snorted. “Obviously.”

Akira withdrew his touch and moved so that he was standing in front of her once more. “Are you ready?”

Nori nodded despite her sweating palms. If she could do this and do it correctly, it would build a bridge between her world and his . . . somehow.

Over the next several hours, he taught her about notes. Notes made music, like puzzle pieces make a puzzle. He taught her some scales, which she struggled to remember, but he wrote them down for her. He tasked her with practicing them before bed each night.

He showed her the strings of the violin and explained how each string represented a note and how, with the bow and the motions of the fingers on the neck, one could create variations to make all sorts of different sounds.

He explained how the violin was a very subtle instrument and how the slightest motion could alter the sound. “It’s almost like a bird,” he told her. “If you squeeze it too tightly, the sound will suffocate. But hold too loosely and it will slip away. Balance is the key.”

Akira drilled her until her eyelids felt like lead and her stomach growls were audible. She could not suppress her yawns. He ignored them, pointing to a measure that she had been struggling with for hours. She’d only been allowed one bathroom break. Akira pointed at the passage on the sheet music yet again, as if this repetition would somehow make her any less oblivious to its meaning.

“Again.”

“Oniichan . . .”

“Again.”

“I don’t know.”

“It’s simple. Use your brain.”

Nori was beginning to regret asking for violin lessons. She began to chew on the inside of her left cheek, hoping that the mild pain would stimulate something in her head.

For God’s sake, the one time Nori actually wanted Akiko to interrupt her time with Akira, and the woman was nowhere to be found.

“I don’t know what it says, I’m sorry. I only recognize the middle C.”

“There are four strings on the violin, Nori. At the beginner level, you’ll be limited to about six notes per string. There are four standard hand positions . . . Nori, are you listening to me?”

“Yes, I am! I just . . . don’t understand . . .”

Akira mumbled something and turned away for a moment. When he turned back, his eyes were kind. “It’s not your fault. I wasn’t made to teach. Never did have the patience.”

He patted her firmly on the head. “Study those notes. I’ll see if I can find you some introductory books. And you’ll be needing a half-hand violin, mine is too big for you.”

Despite not having the slightest clue what he was talking about, she made sure to nod and smile.