Fifty Words for Rain(57)

Nori bowed her head. This was all beyond her deserving. She could do nothing but marvel at it.

Her grandmother let out a hiss. “This is most unreasonable of you. She is such a nothing that you should not consider her at all.”

Nori flinched. She felt a part of herself sink inwards.

Later, I will learn to play something new. A sonata. I will learn all by myself to surprise Oniichan. Mozart, or Liszt. Anything but Beethoven.

Akira bit back his irritation. “I’m not interested in your opinion, Grandmother. Now, let’s discuss the allowance I asked for. Something reasonable should suit.”

Yuko at last fell silent. Her face was drained of all color.

“Akira-san,” she managed, after a long moment of silence, “this will be the ruin of everything. You are too young to understand. I beg you. Listen to me now. You have no mother, no father. You have no one to guide you but me. You must listen to me, as your grandmother. I am the only one left who can set you on your path. This is your destiny.”

Nori recognized the look on her face: it was the rapt conviction she wore the last time they had seen each other. It was wholly captivating. It was the look of a prophet who was sure of their purpose, sure of their connection to the divine.

Akira was immune to it.

“I’ve spoken to a lawyer about Nori,” he said softly. It was as if he knew that he was delivering a mortal blow and he wanted to do it gently. “I’m going to get her papers in order so that she can go to school. She’s staying with me. And that’s all there is to it.”

Yuko gasped, as if someone had pierced her through the heart. She doubled over, placed her head in her hands, and was still.

Absurdly, Nori felt sorry for her.

Her grandfather stood up. The veins in his forehead looked fit to burst.

“I won’t have this,” he roared. “The bastard should have been shot like a dog the day she was dropped on our doorstep. I won’t have her ruining you, boy. I won’t have you forgetting who you are, what you were born to do. I won’t have it!”

Akira winced but did not tremble. “I take it the allowance is off the table.”

Kohei’s face was brick red. “Damn you!”

Akira spread his palms. His eyes were bright. “I will never forget who I am. When I am head of the family, I will change it. I will change the Kamiza way; I will bring this family into the modern era. Give it life. Give it humanity. I can promise you that, Grandfather.”

Yuko had regained her composure. She placed a hand on her husband’s arm to steady him and turned a sharp gaze to Nori.

“What about you, girl?” she snapped. “You must have some ambition. I can give you land, money. If you will just go away and leave this family in peace, I will see to it that you are taken care of. I was wrong to punish you, I see that now—I will reward you instead.”

What is it that you want?

She had been asked this question once before.

Nori stood up before she could stop herself. Her body moved, all on its own, guided by some deep force inside herself that she had no control over. She draped her arms around Akira’s neck and curled his collar into her fist. She grabbed hold of him as if he were a hunting dog that was wholly hers.

“I will stay with Akira-san, if Akira-san will have me,” she said, in a clear voice. “And there is nothing you can do to change my mind.”

Yuko gasped. “You will be the death of him,” she said simply. “And the ruin of this family. You will destroy us all.”

Nori squared her shoulders. “I am sorry you think so.”

Her grandfather slowly turned so that he was looking directly at her. She met his eyes and did not falter, though it was like being glared at by a block of stone.

“You,” he growled. “You are nothing.”

Akira started to stand, but she kept a tight hold on him. She swallowed down her fear and dug in her heels.

“I am your granddaughter,” she challenged, and though her voice wavered, she pressed on. “I have always been your granddaughter, I will always be your granddaughter. I am your family. You cannot erase me. Even if you kill me, I existed. I was here. And Akira-san has chosen me.”

A stunned hush fell over the room. No one moved. Yuko’s jaw was hanging open, her precious decorum utterly forgotten.

And then.

There was a brutal weight on top of her and the sound of glass breaking. Ayame screamed, and there was a great clamor of running and a loud thump as something came crashing down.

But all Nori could see were the eyes: black as obsidian against a backdrop of white, with red veins branching out like bloody rivers.

They were an inch above her own and she felt them pulling her in, drowning her. She could hear a high, thin whistling.

She couldn’t breathe. It was like being crushed beneath a mountain. There was no breath and there was no hope of breath; it was impossible.

She could see fiery red spots dancing at the edges of her vision. Then, fingers tearing at the face above her, but they were shrugged away.

It took her another moment to realize that there were hands wrapped around her neck.

She fought, her small legs kicking against the air, her fists beating helplessly against a chest that felt as if it were made of steel. It was pointless. She knew that, but she fought anyway.

I don’t want to die here!