Fifty Words for Rain(45)

She looks up at me and our eyes meet. I see the familiar look of a girl who has never known power, not even over her own life. “She’s the only friend I have ever had.”

“There’s nothing I can do.”

“You have a say—”

“I have nothing!” I say furiously to her, finally managing to throw her off. “I am a woman, just like you. I have only what I can charm out of others. I can’t stop it. Don’t you understand? I can do nothing. I have gained nothing—”

I break off. I have gained nothing. Since the days of my childhood, when I ate grass to quell the hunger in my belly, what do I have? Since the days when I was a common whore to the days when I commanded a great price, what have I gained? Some nice clothes and the right to command other girls who have nothing, just as I did. I thought that I had risen in the world. But the truth is I had more respect for myself when I was a whore than I do right now.

I turn on my heel and start down the hall. I can hear Miyuki crying after me, but I don’t turn around. I don’t stop.

I swear to God, I have had my fill of the sound of girls crying.



* * *





It was the last night. Nori’s room was full of packed boxes. In the morning, they would all be moved to somewhere else. She didn’t know where. No one had told her and she had not asked.

She glanced at herself in a hand mirror. With the garish makeup all washed away, she didn’t think she looked old enough for any of this. Thirteen, she thought, was awfully young to die. Miyuki’s wailing broke into her thoughts. It had been going on for hours. Nori turned back around to face her friend.

“Miyuki,” she said, as gently as she could, “it’s all right.”

Miyuki gasped. Her eyes were red and swollen. “It’s not. How can you even say that?”

Nori smiled, and it was not forced. There was something strangely peaceful about knowing that soon she would return to the dust from which she came. Her life had meant nothing; her death would mean nothing. Her wandering destiny would come to a final, merciful end.

“What I say makes no difference to the way of things. But I would like to see you smiling, Miyuki-chan. I would like to remember you that way.”

Miyuki wiped at her eyes with balled-up fists. “I can’t bear it.”

Nori knelt down and opened her arms. Miyuki crawled forward and, like a baby, laid her head in Nori’s lap.

“You can. You’ll get your sister back,” Nori murmured, trying to sound soothing, just as she had the first night they’d met. “You’ll get Nanako back.”

“She’ll have forgotten me,” Miyuki cried bitterly. “She won’t remember who I am.”

Nori stroked the top of Miyuki’s wild hair. “Of course she will. You are her family. Her only family. She loves you.”

“What kind of life can I offer her?”

Nori lowered her voice, cautious even now that someone might be listening. “Under the floorboards in my closet is a pearl necklace. They’re gray pearls, quite rare. Don’t take them now—someone would notice—but when it’s time for you to go get Nanako, take them with you. I hope they will help some.”

Miyuki lifted her head and sniffled. “You have given me so much,” she said. “And I have nothing to give you.”

Nori looked away. “You have given me more than enough.”

Miyuki wrapped her arms tight around Nori’s neck. “I love you, Noriko Kamiza,” she whispered fervently. “I won’t forget you. Not ever.”

Nori could not respond. If she admitted to herself what this was, she would have to admit what it was she was losing.

They stayed like that, holding each other on the floor, until the sun peeked over the clouds and filled the room with unwelcome light. Kiyomi entered. Nori let go.

Miyuki made a sound like a dying animal.

Kiyomi took Nori’s hand and led her away.

They did not see each other again.





CHAPTER NINE


    IMPASSE




Road to Tokyo

October 1953

They did not knock her out this time. Nori sat in the back seat of a black car with tinted windows. Kiyomi sat beside her. The driver was a man she didn’t recognize. She thought he might be one of the men who guarded the premises. He had scars on his arms that looked like old knife cuts. She tried not to focus on him. She turned to peer out the window, at the orange and green countryside. When she rolled it down to feel the air on her face, Kiyomi did not scold her.

All she knew was that when they reached Tokyo, she would never again feel a chilly fall breeze make her cheeks numb. She would never again read or knit or play or bask in the sun. She would be a prisoner for a moment, and then, after that, she would be forever free. She let her hand hang out of the open window, and she faded in and out of sleep, dreaming of a clear blue lake with swans.

It was an odd thing, to be dying but in no pain.

The blade was cold against her inner thigh. She had stolen it from the kitchen when no one was looking. The staff had hardly noticed her these past few weeks; they had all looked through her as if she were already a ghost.

She had used three of her ribbons to bind the blade so it did not slice her. She had to wait for the perfect moment. Her ribbons had been her mother’s only gifts to her. It seemed fitting they would be with her until the very end.