Fifty Words for Rain(31)

Even Akira-sama is not safe from that man’s rage. Seiko wasn’t. Being the heir is no guarantee of safety from him.

But there is a general consensus in this house not to tell Kohei-sama anything that he doesn’t need to know—and he is here so rarely that he never has time to notice anything anyway. He prefers the company of important men in Tokyo, and Yuko-sama prefers to have her rule unchallenged here in Kyoto. This is her native city, not his.

Akira-sama calls to his sister to stay clear of the rose garden. She is not paying attention to a word he’s saying. She is attempting to pick one and nicks her finger on a thorn. But her joy is undiminished.

For the first time, seeing her run free and wild, I see her as a normal little girl. I am almost moved to tears at the realization that soon, very soon, this girl will be put back in her cage.

The sky begins to darken and I hear the distant rumble of thunder. If Noriko-sama hears it, she is unmoved by it. Akira-sama has taken shelter beneath the patio awning, just a few feet in front of me. He watches her with a look that can only be described as exasperation, but he makes no attempt to call her inside.

The heavens sound one final warning before the rain starts to fall, in thick sheets. Harenochiame. Rain after a perfect, clear sky.

The girl stands perfectly still, face upturned and arms stretched out wide as they’ll go. Her thin clothing has gone completely see-through. She will catch her death. I can remain silent no longer and I call her name. I don’t think she hears me.

She is twirling now, dancing to music that no one else can hear. The water pours down her face and into her open mouth. I cannot hear what she is saying over the roar of the rain, but I see her lips form the same word, over and over again: “ame.” Ame. Rain.

I look at Akira-sama’s face from the corner of my eye. It is passive and blank, per usual. After what seems like an arbitrary amount of time to me, but a very deliberately planned interval to him, he calls her inside.

“Nori.”

That is all he says. She drops the fistfuls of grass she had been holding in her tiny hands and makes her way to where her brother is standing.

She looks up at him, and never have I seen such an expression. It is one of pure and utter idolatry. It is too absolute to call it love. Love can be weakened by time or forgotten for the sake of another. Love can disappear, without a cause or an explanation, like a thief crept in and stole it in the night.

But what she wears on her face for him now cannot disappear and cannot die. He responds by patting her absently on the top of her soaking-wet head, like one might pet a puppy.

Poor thing. She has set her heart on something she cannot have.

The two of them run on parallel wavelengths that can never touch.

She, of course, has not realized this. But he has—I know it. He has lorded his genius over us too much for me to pretend that he is too dull to grasp this most obvious truth.

He is either a sadist or as foolish as she is. I cannot think which one would be worse.



* * *





Violin lessons were outside now.

They would sit on the bench beneath the peach tree, and the leaves would protect them from the harsh sun. Nori had discovered that her skin burned quite easily.

The scenic surroundings seemed to improve Akira’s disposition. There was a little bridge over the pond and rows and rows of flowers, in countless colors that Nori had never seen before. Akira patiently explained to her the names of the trees, the tradition behind the water garden. He told her these trees were a thousand years old in some cases and that she must always honor the land, for her blood was in it and its blood was in her. Akira, who could never be called a spiritual person, seemed to hold a deep respect for anything that could be so constant, even if it was a tree.

Her missed notes and sloppy hand positioning seemed to irritate him less now.

She had gotten a little better. He had not said so, of course, but she knew that she had. As if to contradict her silent thoughts, Akira swatted her lightly on the back of the head. “Watch the trill.”

“Gomen, Oniichan.”

She played it again.

Akira let out a deep sigh and gave her a withering look. “How is it when I give you a correction, you manage to play it even worse than you did before?”

“I can’t play it any faster, Oniichan.”

“Don’t flatter yourself. You aren’t even playing the notes right. Never mind fast. Look at the music.”

Nori glanced down at the pieces of paper pinned to the music stand in front of her. Bit by bit, these strange markings were starting to mean something to her.

She saw what he had been talking about. Without waiting for him to give the command, she played it a third time, taking special care to pronounce each note. When she had finished, Akira shot her a rare half smile.

“That’s enough,” Akira said softly, gingerly removing the violin from her hands, with more care and gentleness than she’d known he was capable of. “We’re done for today.”

Nori was at once relieved and disappointed. “Can I stay for a minute and listen to you play?”

This was her favorite part of the day. If she stood on the bench, she was just tall enough to scramble into the lower branches of the tree. She could sit there quite comfortably, with her legs curled into her chest, and listen to her brother play. But he only allowed her to do it sometimes.

Akira cocked his head to one side, as if considering her request.