Above me, gigantic bubbles were suspended in the air. What were those? I jumped and managed to reach one. When the tip of my index finger touched the surface, I felt a chill. The bubble burst like summer fireworks, splitting into millions of tiny balls that dropped to the ground.
I rubbed the thin film on my finger with my thumb. It was water.
Slowly, it dawned on me that I was inside a dream. But something about it wasn’t right. I had to get out. If I couldn’t escape, I would be stuck there forever.
No matter where I walked, the sea of whiteness and water bubbles was uninterrupted. Was I closer to the way out now? Or farther from it?
“Ren,” someone called.
I turned around and saw the little girl with pigtails staring at me. She wore the same dark-blue pinafore from my previous dream, when she’d walked through traffic.
“Who are you?” I asked. “What do you want?”
She was quiet for a moment, then shook her head and pointed up. A school of giant goldfish swam through the air. Hundreds, maybe thousands. Each of them the size of a soccer ball. Their vibrant scales painted the sky a golden orange.
The flying goldfish danced above us, sweeping their translucent glittering tails while avoiding the balls of water. I was dazzled. They looked so elegant.
Suddenly, the goldfish charged at the bubbles, bursting them. Cold water splashed everywhere, and a bright light flashed from the distance. I shielded my eyes with my hands. Squinting, I remembered the little girl and looked for her, but she’d run off. I should have chased after her, but my feet felt heavy.
Before I woke up, I heard my sister’s voice.
Ren, you shouldn’t be here.
I’d fallen asleep with my head on the desk and the window open. It was pouring outside, and water sprayed into the room. I could hear thunder amidst the sound of rain.
Getting up, I closed the window. Half of the desk, including the phone, was already wet. I took a face towel and wiped off the rainwater. Good thing I hadn’t taken out the day’s work papers from my bag.
My watch showed two in the morning. I knew I should shower, but I was too tired. Tossing myself on the bed without changing my clothes, I pulled up the blanket, but it was too thin to warm me. I got up and threw on a jacket before climbing back in. I fell sleep again, and this time, I didn’t dream.
When I awoke, the sun was already high. Tiny droplets made their way down the glass panel to the wooden frame before disappearing. I opened the window, taking a deep breath.
Once, when Nae was staying over at my place, I asked her if rain had a smell. She gave me a puzzled look while brushing her hair. Her long, black hair fell down to her elbows; she always pulled it up when she slept with me. Her ponytail would end up messy, but I didn’t care. I liked her messy look.
“I don’t think rain itself has a smell,” Nae said, “but there’s this unmistakable fragrance that lingers after the rain. A fresh, earthy scent. Do you know what I mean?”
I nodded. “I think so.”
“Maybe it’s the smell of wet soil. Whatever it is, I like it.”
Me too, I love the distinctive after-rain smell. Thinking about rain always reminds me of Nae.
I sent another letter to my parents on my way to Yotsuba, giving them Mr. Katou’s address. But I hadn’t contacted Nae. I didn’t know how to talk to her. It was the first time we’d had such a prolonged argument.
On the bright side, I enjoyed the feeling of being single. No one to call, no one to plan dates for, no special occasions to remember. It suited my personality. I never had liked commitment—perhaps I shouldn’t have had a girlfriend in the first place.
Over the next few days, I developed a new routine to match my teaching schedule.
I would wake up around eight and go for a one-hour jog on a path leading to the slope where my sister had died. It was as if I hoped to trick myself into thinking I was visiting her every morning. I really should have tried to see her more often when she was alive.
On my way home, I would stop by the convenience store and buy two lunch boxes, leaving one in front of Mrs. Katou’s room. I would eat my lunch alone in the kitchen. After my meal, I’d stop by Mrs. Katou’s room and read a few more pages of Midnight’s Children to her before heading to work.
The schedule didn’t change much on my days off. Instead of going to work, I took the bus into town. Most of the time, I wandered aimlessly around the shopping mall or sat down for a cup of coffee. Every day was predictable.
Contrary to my expectations, after two weeks I grew to enjoy the time I spent with Mrs. Katou. I could choose books I’d always wanted to read, but never found the time to. I could also reread books I loved. If I wanted to, I could repeat the same line over and over. No matter what, she would listen to me without a single word of objection. I felt like I had a captive listener. And if I got tired, I could stop at any time.
The house itself was always quiet. While sitting on the chair next to Mrs. Katou’s bed, I could pick up the tiniest noise in the air, like the sound of the breeze caressing the wooden window and the tinkling wind chime, or the rhythm of Mrs. Katou’s breath colliding against mine. If I stayed still long enough, the air came alive and sealed us in an invisible film.
Whenever I felt stifled, I walked to the window and traced the shadow of the pine tree in the garden. Birds were always flying by. I didn’t know what breed, but they had dark-bluish feathers. So dark they were almost black. Were they the same kind of birds that my sister had bought on her birthday? I couldn’t tell. I couldn’t remember them well, apart from the fact that they were black. Or had they been dark blue?
I seemed to forget the things I wanted to remember, and remember things I wanted to forget. Like my sister’s death. I wished everything that had brought me here had been a dream.
I’d expected a prominent politician like Mr. Katou to receive plenty of guests, but that wasn’t the case. The only visitor I’d seen so far was the white-haired housekeeper who came every Monday and Thursday. Each time, it took me a while to notice her presence, the way she blended into the house. She was quiet and discreet—or rather, I’d never heard her speak—and somehow entered the premises without anyone noticing. The only thing that gave her presence away was the whirring of her vacuum cleaner.
Whenever I saw her, I bowed to her, but she ignored me. Was she upset that I noticed her? What a bizarre thought. No one would think that way. But when she was around, I made it a point not to read aloud. I would slip into my room and wait there until it was time to leave for work.
“Have you tried talking to her?” Honda asked me after I’d told him about the housekeeper.
I shrugged. “It doesn’t seem like she wants to talk.”
“You could test it out, start a conversation.”
“Maybe,” I said, knowing I never would.
The last class had ended. Honda and I were at my desk, having cup noodles for supper. It had been drizzling all day. Cold weather makes people hungry, so stocking up on instant noodles in the office during the rainy season had been a wise choice.
“What about that Mr. Katou?” Honda asked.
“I rarely see him,” I said. “He leaves the house before I wake up, and by the time I return from work, he’s already in his room.”
“Does he spend time with his wife?”
“Not when I’m around.”
“He’s a workaholic, then?”
“Probably.”
“Or maybe he prefers to be alone.”
“Could be.”
Though I had once seen him in his wife’s bedroom.
It was a Sunday, and I was about to do my daily reading. The door was open, and I stayed outside when I realized Mr. Katou was inside. He sat on the wooden chair next to his wife’s bed, the one I usually used, and both of them looked out the window in silence. I left to give them some privacy.
> Though they were quiet, I sensed a strong connection between them. It was as if they had their own special way to communicate. A secret language. Strange, yet beautiful.
I drank the soup and threw the Styrofoam bowl into the bin. Peering out of the window, I saw that the rain had stopped. Seven Stars—or Rio Nakajima, as I’d learned—walked out of the building. The students around her were laughing and smiling, but she looked detached from the rest.
At that moment, I realized what drew me to her. It was those beautiful fingers. The way she had moved them gracefully while smoking her cigarettes that rainy day still captivated me.
“Are you done, Ishida?” Honda asked. “I’m going near Segayaki. I can give you a lift.”
“Don’t worry, I can take the bus. It’s not that far.”
“Since it’s not that far, let me drive you back.”
I grabbed my bag and followed him to the basement parking lot. His car always smelled faintly of citrus, but I couldn’t see an air freshener anywhere. He probably spritzed the interior every morning.
Honda released the handbrake and the vehicle slowly rolled forward. Feeling a chill, I rubbed my nose and sneezed.
“Are you sick?” Honda asked.
“No, I’m fine,” I answered. “Must be the weather.”
“When you live alone, you need to be careful with your health.”
I mumbled in agreement.
“Am I being too preachy?”
I wasn’t thinking properly when I said, “You remind me of my sister sometimes.”
As soon as the words were out, I regretted them. The atmosphere became awkward, but thankfully, Honda pretended not to notice.
I looked at the streetlights and squinted. The red traffic light in the distance turned to green. At night, the road felt wider, probably because fewer cars were around.
Recalling the dream I’d had, I asked Honda, “Is there a public aquarium around here?”
“Not in Akakawa, unfortunately. The nearest one is in Tokyo,” he said. “Why? Feeling nostalgic?”
“I had a dream about goldfish.”
“Goldfish?” He laughed. “What made you dream of goldfish? And if you’re only looking for goldfish, you can go to the pet shop.”
“That’s true.”
“When was the last time you saw one?”
I thought about it, but couldn’t recall.
When my sister was still in Tokyo, we used to go to the summer festivals together. She loved the goldfish-scooping game stall, even though she wasn’t good at it. She always moved the paper net too quickly and ended up breaking it. After two or three failed attempts, she usually asked me to do it instead.
I never failed to catch at least two fish. With a proud smile, my sister would walk away with the goldfish in a plastic bag half-filled with water. But after the festival, she always made a detour to the canal to release them. I told her it was a waste, but she wouldn’t listen. Keiko Ishida didn’t let anyone else make decisions for her.
“Do you like fish, Ishida?” Honda asked.
“I don’t particularly like them, but I don’t hate them either,” I said. “Fish are just fish.”
“What about goldfish?”
“They’re pretty. I think it’s their colors.”
“It’s hard not to like goldfish, isn’t it? Like with dolphins. Everyone loves dolphins.”
The car pulled over in front of Katou’s house. I thanked Honda for the ride and got out.
“See you tomorrow,” he said.
I watched the black sedan get smaller and smaller before disappearing in the distance. The carbon smell from the exhaust still lingered when I opened the gate. The cold and quiet night provided a false sense of tranquility.
10
The
Bubblegum
World and the
Woman with a Mole
on the Back of
Her Neck
The next morning, I went for my usual jog.
I now knew the location of all the electricity poles. I could pinpoint the corners where the stray cats hid. One of the spots was where a brick wall had crumbled, wild grass sprouting from it.
On my way back to the Katou house, I stopped at the convenience store. Wiping the sweat off my forehead, I pushed the glass door open and went to the lunch box section. I checked the day’s selection: chicken cutlet, deep-fried octopus ball, salted salmon, and mini hamburgers. Which should I go for?
The bell pinged, and I saw a familiar face. It was Seven Stars, still in her school uniform. To be here at this time of day, she had to be skipping class. I was about to approach her when a young man I’d seen before entered the store.
He went to the magazine rack, but his eyes were locked on her. Though he wasn’t in uniform, I recognized him as the officer who had been manning the police counter on my visit. Could he be on a mission to catch students who were ditching school?
Standing in front of the candy shelf, Seven Stars slid her fingers over the packages as if she were looking for something. Then, with a sudden flick of her index finger, she knocked a bubble gum tin into her schoolbag. I gasped. She’d done it in a second, with delicate precision. From the way she’d carried it out and her unchanging expression, I knew this wasn’t her first time shoplifting.
Seven Stars was about to walk out when the officer put down the magazine he was holding. No longer thinking straight, I ran over and grabbed her arm. She looked at me in surprise.
“What are you doing?” she hissed, after the initial shock wore off.
“I saw what you just did,” I whispered. “Return the bubble gum now.”
She averted her eyes, staring off into the distance. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“You do know what I’m talking about, and so does the plainclothes police officer over there.”
I glanced at the young officer, and Seven Stars went pale.
“It’s all right, you’re still inside the store,” I continued. “Don’t panic; just put it back onto the shelf.”
“I can’t.” She looked down. “I need it.”
“Then pay for it.”
She shook her head. “That would defeat the purpose.”
I sighed in frustration. “What do you want to do? Spend the night in the police station?”
No answer. She kept her head low. It was apparent that she was prepared for the consequences. I wondered if she was being rebellious to get someone’s attention. But surely, that wasn’t worth risking a criminal record.
The officer approached us. “Is there a problem?”
“Everything is fine,” I said, forcing my hand into Seven Stars’ bag.
I took the bubble gum to the cashier to pay for it. Seven Stars remained standing next to the officer. Her eyes followed my every movement. I didn’t know what she was thinking, but I had to save her. I returned to her and put the bubble gum in her hand.
She shoved it back at me. “No one asked you to buy it.”
I couldn’t tell what she wanted. “Fair enough,” I said, putting the gum inside my pocket.
Seven Stars gave me a defiant look before walking off. Once she had left, the officer caught up with me at the corner of the block.
“You’re Keiko Ishida’s brother, aren’t you? I don’t know what you’re trying to do, but you’re not helping that girl. I’ve been watching her, and I saw what she did. She won’t learn unless we catch her red-handed.”
“I understand, but please overlook it this time,” I said. “I’ll talk to her and make sure she won’t do it again. She’s still young. Her future prospects will be hurt if she has a criminal record.”
His forehead creased. “May I know what your relationship is to her?”
“She’s my student.” I bowed to him. “Let me apologize on her behalf. Please, give her ano
ther chance.”
“Mr. Ishida, don’t apologize to me. I’m sorry, but I can’t let her off. I have to take down her particulars in case she reoffends. I hope you don’t think badly of me. I’m only doing my duty.”
The officer left and chased after Seven Stars. I watched them from a distance as they talked. She took something from her schoolbag, probably her student ID. The officer copied the information from it into his notebook. Once he was gone, I went to her.
“Are you all right?” I asked.
She remained silent and crossed her arms.
I had to find a way to get her to talk. “Why do you like bubble gum so much?”
“What’s wrong with bubble gum?”
“Nothing. Bubble gum is fine, but I prefer chocolate,” I said. “My favorite is Ritter Sport milk chocolate with cornflakes. You’ve probably never seen it. They don’t seem to sell it around here.”
She looked into my eyes. “I appreciate your help, but you have no right to be patronizing.”
“Fine, I’ll leave you alone,” I said, raising my hands. “But don’t push your luck. They’re not going to let you off next time.”
Seven Stars was quiet, but she looked at me hesitantly, like she wanted to ask a question.
“Is there something you want to tell me?” I asked.
She pressed her lips together. “You have the same surname as our previous English teacher.”
“Of course I do.” I forced a smile. “She was my sister.”
Her expression changed a little. I waited for the usual words of condolence, but they never came. Instead, she turned around and walked away. I returned to the convenience store to get a newspaper and two lunch boxes.
Because of the confusion from that morning’s incident, I left the Katous’ house earlier than usual. I had some time to kill, so I went to a café. A mere five-minute walk from Yotsuba, the place served strong coffee. I ordered a cup and sipped it slowly.
“Ren?” a soft voice called.
I looked up and saw a woman standing in front of me. Wearing a peach blouse and white skirt, she looked like a typical office lady in her mid-twenties.
“I knew it was you.” Her smile widened. “Are you alone? May I join you?”
Rainbirds Page 7