Fifty Words for Rain(61)

He cut his eyes at her. “It’s not as if I vowed to spend every second at your side. I have my own wants, you know. My own life. You aren’t the center of the universe, Nori.”

She felt her temper flare. “So that’s it? Now that I’m safe, now that you can be sure that I’m not going to be raped, or murdered—at least this week—you’re going off to Europe? You’re done with me now?”

The color rose to Akira’s cheeks, and he took two steps back. “You’re behaving like a child. I’m not leaving forever. I’m coming back.”

No, he’s not, the dark voice inside her mind whispered.

Her stomach dropped, but she knew that she could do nothing to change his mind. And it brought her no joy to see him so unhappy, so crippled by the weight of his responsibilities.

“Fine,” she managed. “Fine, go. Have a nice trip. Make sure you win.”

Akira did not look pacified by her submission. “You will be fine.”

“I’m sure of it,” she lied. Her hands started to shake, and she tucked them out of sight.

He looked doubtful. “It’s just for a little while.”

He can’t breathe. He can’t breathe here anymore. Because of me.

There was no reason that both of them had to drown. She would not pull him down with her. Her misery flourished in isolation; it always had. It didn’t want company. Especially not Akira’s.

She pinched the skin on her palm to steel herself for what she was about to say.

“I want you to go.”

Akira looked like he desperately wanted to believe her but didn’t. “Really?”

“Yes,” she continued. Her legs began to shake now. “I think it will be good for you to get out of Japan for a while. Just make sure you bring me a new dress.”

At last, he relented. The lines faded from his face, and he looked like a happy boy once more. She made sure to etch that image into her mind. She was going to need it.

“I’ll bring you whatever you want,” he promised. “Anything.”

Nori bowed her head. “Just come back.”

Akira nodded and went inside the house. Nori climbed back into her tree and stayed there until the sun had vanished back behind the clouds.



* * *





The night Akira left, she had the first dream. The oldest one that she could remember. And it was always the same.

She was chasing the blue car. Her mother was leaning out of the window, faceless, with her dark hair billowing around her head.

Nori.

She ran. The asphalt was hot and her feet were bare. But she ran and ran after that car until there were blisters on her feet.

Nori.

I’m here, Okaasan! I’m here!

But the car never slowed down. So Nori ran faster and faster, as fast as she could, until she was gasping for air like a dying fish.

Okaasan, I’m here!

She would never catch the car. When she would get very close, so close her fingers would graze the bumper, it would speed up and wink out of sight. The dream never changed, not one iota.

Silly girl, her grandmother’s voice would say. Have you forgotten who you are?

Nori woke up in her bed. Ayame was seated in the corner.

Wordlessly, she got up and handed Nori a damp rag.

“Do you want something to drink?”

Nori shook her head. She knew better than to try to speak. They locked eyes, and in that gaze was the only question worth asking.

Ayame bowed her head. “You’ve been asleep for hours.”

Nori waited.

“Your brother is gone.”

Nori nodded. Waited.

Ayame hesitated. “When you are up . . . if you like . . . we can talk about your mother.”

Nori found a tiny voice. “Hai.”

Ayame hesitated. “He’ll come back, you know.”

Against it all, against the dull ache inside her chest, Nori smiled. She’d been raised to be fearful. But underneath that, like buds pushing through the cracks in concrete, she could see a sliver of something largely foreign: hope. Hope for a future not written in stone, dictated by the circumstances of birth. Akira was in Paris, basking in his talent and ambition, not in Kyoto, reading ancient tomes with her grandmother.

And she . . . she was alive. Miraculously, unbelievably alive.

“I know.”

You see, Okaasan, she thought. You have two disobedient children. And in failing you, maybe we will manage to be happy.





PART III





CHAPTER THIRTEEN


    TRAITOR’S REQUIEM




Tokyo, Japan

February 1954

On a chilly February morning, Ayame handed her the box. They were sitting in the study among the belongings that Akira had brought over from his childhood home. He hadn’t saved much. He was never one for sentiment.

“Is he really going to sell the old house?” Nori asked. She was feeling a little stronger than usual today. Her body was adjusting to going long periods of time without sleep. But the dark circles around her eyes made her look like a raccoon.

“He might, little madam. The money would go far. But he may not be allowed to. The house is a family heirloom of sorts.”

“Well, why don’t we live there, then?” She had wondered about this for a while, but knew better than to ask her brother.