Fifty Words for Rain(55)

Akira’s face darkened. He did not miss a beat. “No.”

“But—”

“No.”

“Oniichan!”

“Zettai ni. Absolutely not.”

“I’m old enough to speak for myself,” she protested. “I could help you.”

“You’ll ruin everything,” Akira said crossly. “I don’t have time for this. They’ll be here in an hour, go to your room.”

Her body moved to obey before she could stop it, her muscle memory absolute. But she stopped herself, digging her heels in. She remembered the first time she’d seen him, in a house like this, in a room like this, surrounded by old heirlooms that seemed to radiate disdain towards her presence. She had decided then and there that she would follow him anywhere.

But she wanted to walk beside him now. Not behind him. Not anymore.

“No.”

Akira looked at her incredulously. No one told him no.

“I said—”

“And I said no, Oniichan.”

She doubted if Akira had been interrupted in seventeen years. He looked bewildered, as if he had been presented with some strange new language that he could not decipher.

“Noriko,” he started, his voice low with anger. “I’m not going to ask you again.”

She winced but did not fall back. “Are you going to beat me if I disobey? Like Obaasama? Or drag me by the hair like the man she sold me to?”

He looked away from her. She had caught him on the raw, and she pressed her advantage.

“I’m going to be grown up like you one day. I need to learn these things. I need to learn how to negotiate, how to get people who don’t like me to give me my way.”

Akira hesitated. “It’s . . . not time for that yet.”

“We don’t know that.”

He gave her a weary look. “It’s easier for me if you aren’t there.”

For the first time, she saw the vulnerability on his face. He was motherless, like her. He was fatherless, like her. He was the golden child, and she was the cursed child, but they were both caught in the same web.

“I’m your sister,” she said awkwardly. Her words failed her; she had never been a great speaker like him. She spread her palms open in a gesture of surrender. “I’m . . .”

He sighed and looked her in the eyes for a long moment, searching them for something. Then he took off, starting towards the kitchen, before changing course and darting towards the stairs.

She trailed after him, wondering if she should accept her defeat or pester him further. He paced back and forth, whirling on her as if he were going to yell and then biting it back. She had never seen him so unsure.

Then.

“Ayame-san,” he barked.

She appeared out of thin air. “Obocchama?”

Akira didn’t look at Nori.

“See that there is a place set at the table for my sister.”

Ayame nodded and left as quickly as she’d come.

Nori’s eyes widened and Akira turned to face her.

“No crying. No speaking. No moving. You keep your face as still as a corpse, do you hear me?”

“I promise,” she said quickly. “I do promise.”

“We’re soldiers today. Do you understand?”

She nodded. For him, she could be brave. His face softened.

“If you get scared, think of some music,” he told her. “Think of it and you will feel safe.”



* * *





The dining room table was set for afternoon tea. The porcelain china was in perfect condition and the silver was freshly polished. Someone had designed a beautiful arrangement made of white chrysanthemums and a red flower that Nori could not name and placed it in the corner of the room.

Akira’s chair had been placed at the head of the table, with another great chair set across from him. There was a smaller chair set a little behind each of the larger ones.

Nori liked the idea that she would be able to hide a little. Her bravado had vanished. Akira was still as a stone, his tea untouched in front of him. Nori kept her hands folded tightly in her lap. She was once again conscious of her skin, which was now tan from spending so much time basking in the sun, and her hair, which had been straightened for the day but was already starting to frizz again.

She decided not to focus on that. She focused on the back of Akira’s neck. His hair curled a little at the nape, just as hers did. He smelled like clean linen today.

The doors slid open, and Ayame announced that the guests had arrived.

Yuko came in first. She was wearing a purple kimono with a gold obi, with a matching gold fan tucked in her obi.

Nori’s hands and feet went completely numb. She kept her face perfectly still.

Next came her grandfather, a man who she had before only seen in passing. Now, from beneath the veil of her hair, she looked at him fully for the first time.

Kohei Kamiza was as large as an ox. He seemed to fill up the entire room just by stepping into it. He had dark eyes as hard as diamonds, gray hair, and a beard that was still black.

Even beneath his flowing robes, there was a solidity that hinted at strength.

She felt his eyes on her like a physical pain, and she nipped the inside of her cheek with her teeth to stop herself from crying out.

Yuko took in her surroundings with a cool glance. She waited a moment, but Akira did not rise to greet her. Akira hadn’t moved at all.