Red Tea

by Meg Mezeske

  They parted with a few more friendly words and suggestions to meet again soon, before Jordan purchased her ticket and rounded a staircase leading to the lower level. Though it was already late into the evening, most of the station’s shops and restaurants remained open, and Jordan had to squeeze past crowds of customers on her way to the platform.

  She passed stalls selling souvenir cookies, candies, cheeses, and meats from the region, boutiques and makeup counters, and cafes fragrant with coffee and hot chocolate. Many stores were also ornamented with Christmas decorations, and some notes of holiday music danced on the air. Jordan paused by a bright bakery window housing rows of Christmas cakes, each frosted with smooth white icing and topped with a circle of strawberries that stood like red trees on a snowy hilltop. She smiled to herself at the warm scene as she pushed onto the platform and was met with the night’s cold, wet air.

  Fourteen

  Only Jordan’s hands were warm: one squeezing a disposable warming packet in her pocket and the other wrapped in Toshihiko’s gloved grasp. He held her hand lightly, easily. They had spent every weekend of the past month together and seen each other even more often since the school’s winter break had begun the week before.

  Without work to distract her, Jordan eagerly sought out Toshihiko to occupy her time, and her thoughts. It would be her first Christmas away from home. She had considered flying back to Las Vegas for a few days, but she was on a tight budget and trying to pay off college debts, maybe even build up her savings…for what she wasn’t sure. Graduate school, possibly, or her own home. Her parents had insisted that she not go out of her way, not to worry about them, but the undertow of sadness was unmistakable.

  It was also their first Christmas without Aiden. Jordan couldn’t imagine trying to celebrate a holiday without him there—what it would be like to see so many familiar faces together except for the one. Those faces wearing the same hollow pain she felt. Even thinking about it was too much for her to bear. And now, because of her staying in Japan, there would be two people missing. Perhaps it would be better, for everyone, if they simply held onto the memories instead of trying to live out some weak mockery of times before. Or maybe it was just easier for her not to face it.

  Jordan was yet again overcome with guilt over her own selfishness and cowardice. Shaking her head, Jordan wrapped her fingers tightly around Toshihiko’s and leaned her shoulder into his.

  “It’s beautiful,” she said, hoping he didn’t hear the catch in her voice. Her sniffling she could blame on the cold.

  They walked together slowly along the mountain path. It was packed with snow and groups of visitors bundled in thick jackets, snow pants, and scarves. Laughter and plumes of breath floated from the passersby’s plump shapes as they shuffled alongside Jordan and Toshihiko. Snow crunched below their feet when their boots broke through untrodden patches of crust.

  Just beyond the path, they were joined by more figures. Rows upon rows of hunched forms loomed tens of feet tall—trees bent under the weight of rime wrapping them like batting. The Snow Monsters of Zao. The countless trees wore hoary shells pocked and lined by the wind, huddled against the elements, utterly frozen.

  In the dark of the evening, the shapes did look truly monstrous—an endless phantom army of defeated warriors plodding forward in an inexorable march. They continued so far up the mountainside that they disappeared beyond sight, swallowed by the night as though sinking into deep, dark waters. A stiff burst of wind shunted through the rime-covered trees, making their covered branches moan and shudder.

  Jordan was awestruck by the distorted creatures. She felt a shiver crawl across her neck at their ghostly sounds and almost imperceptible swaying in the dark. Some were illuminated by colored lights mounted high on scaffolding on the other side of the path, making them look incongruously cheery, awash in greens, pinks, and purples. The trees’ shadows were lined by ribbons of color from the multiple lights, as though the snow had been dyed. Opposite the mountainside, the golden lights of the Zao Onsen spa glittered below.

  Jordan sighed appreciatively at the sight, only to have her teeth snap back together with a shiver of cold. They had been outside for a half-hour, and the biting wind was beginning to overpower her enjoyment of the scene. She glanced at Toshihiko, who seemed unperturbed despite the redness of his nose and cheeks. He looked at the icy trees with cool regard, his lips forming a very small, private smile. Jordan squeezed his hand.

  “How about some hot coffee at the lodge? I’m freezing.”

  “Of course.”

  They walked to the queue for the suspended cable car that would transport them down to the lodge at the mountain’s base. After a few minutes, Jordan and Toshihiko arrived at the front of the line and waited as a car floated down the cableway. They scurried inside and sidled into a seat together to make way for the handful of other visitors who boarded. The car bobbed and rocked like a cork as the passengers settled before drifting down the mountainside.

  The windows were already foggy and teary with breath, and Jordan had to swipe her hand across the glass to see outside. Now far below, the snow monsters seemed less magnificent, trudging away in their snowy, bunched coats. Jordan pressed a gloved finger against the window and closed one eye, obscuring a lavender-washed rime creature, and imagined just how luxurious a simple mug of coffee would taste. She turned back to see Toshihiko quickly direct his gaze at his feet, as though embarrassed to have been caught watching her. He recovered himself in a heartbeat.

  “Did you enjoy the Juhyo?”

  “I hardly ever see a single flake of snow back home! This was…amazing.” Jordan smiled. Toshihiko returned a pleased look but said no more, instead directing his attention out the window.

  Even after a month of getting to know Toshihiko, Jordan was still learning how to navigate a conversation with him. He was always polite—almost professional—and tended to toe around the edges of topics, slowly circling his way to the core point. Jordan had thought she would get to see the man behind the collected inspector but began to wonder if his badge was grafted to his bones. Not that he spoke about his job often—far from it—but rather she wouldn’t be surprised if he pulled out his digital recorder mid-conversation and took notes with his usual calm demeanor. At the thought of Toshihiko and his casework, an idea settled in Jordan’s mind.

  “I’ll be in Yamagata City tomorrow. Your office isn’t far from the train station, is it?”

  “My department’s not exactly open to the public,” he said and looked coolly out the window.

  “But you can get me clearance. Come on; you promised to show me one day—I’d like to see where you work.”

  “Some other time. I hoped to enjoy this weekend without thinking about my investigations.” Toshihiko looked at her then and smiled. Jordan decided not to press any further, though he had deflected her request more than once before. Because they had met due to her students’ deaths, and because Jordan’s curiosity still lingered after the investigation’s non-resolution, she couldn’t help but probe the inspector for details. Often. Once, Toshihiko had let slip that Emi and Junichi had indeed been involved with each other, as she suspected, but he had schooled himself more carefully since.

  They spent the rest of the ride to the base of the mountain in comfortable silence and Toshihiko politely took Jordan’s arm to help her from the car as it skirted along the loading platform. Many other cold-weary visitors shared the same longing for a warm drink, and Jordan and Toshihiko followed a trickle of people into the wooden lodge nearby. Upon entering, the warmth from the twisting fire in the hearth and the crush of people swallowed Jordan. She unwound her scarf and pointed to two armchairs edging one of the large windows.

  “I’ll get the seats. You get the coffee.”

  Toshihiko nodded in agreement and Jordan slipped away to the chairs. So near the window, she could feel the cold curling its fingers through the glass, but she sighed at the pleasant ambient warmth, feeling her cheeks tingle as her blood pumped wi
th new vigor. She sank into the cushioned chair as she removed her gloves and watched the stream of people outside. The lodge’s bright interior made it difficult to see much beyond what was illuminated by its bubble of light cast onto the snow, but Jordan was happy to watch the pink, smiling faces that passed rather than the snowy grotesques beyond them.

  The rime-encased trees reminded her of lost spirits roaming the mountainside, and she felt a familiar ache at the thought of Aiden, and her students. Even Emi. She let her shoulders slump and realized she was scowling when Toshihiko returned with two steaming mugs.

  “Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine, thank you.” She took the mug gratefully, taking a moment to enjoy the nutty, woody aroma of the coffee and the warmth that seeped from the ceramic cup to her fingers. She paused before taking a sip. “Did you know that Yuki was reprimanded for breaking into the school’s science room a few weeks before his death?” Toshihiko smoothly navigated his own coffee to his lips, but Jordan thought she saw a muscle in his jaw twitch.

  “Yes.” He eyed her over the top of his glasses. “You believe this is relevant?”

  “I assumed anything out of the ordinary relating to Yuki or Emi was relevant. I guess neither were model students.”

  “And perhaps they both felt deeply ashamed of their actions,” Toshihiko said and continued firmly over Jordan as she began to speak. “Jordan, I don’t know how else to say I shouldn’t be discussing a case, especially with someone so closely involved, even if the investigation has been tabled. I’m sorry, but you may never find the answers you’re looking for.”

  “I understand,” she said and sighed before sitting up a little straighter so that she could place her hand over Toshihiko’s. She felt his fingers relax under her touch. “I’ll stop raining on our outing.”

  “So we can talk about something else for a change?” he asked teasingly.

  “You were going to tell me about that man who was born in the castle we visited the other week—Yonezawa Castle. You know, the guy who wears the eye patch and the banana hat in all his statues.”

  Toshihiko laughed. “Date Masamune. You know very well that it’s a crescent-moon helmet and not a banana. He’s the founder of Sendai, actually. Back in 1584…”

  Jordan smiled to herself as she listened and watched the lights of the town below disappear and blink back to life as person after person drifted by.

  Fifteen

  School had only resumed that day, the students still lethargic and resistant to acclimating to their lessons. Jordan felt much the same way and made little effort to stifle a yawn, drowsy and unenergetic so soon after lunch. The days were still bitterly cold, but a large kerosene heater thrumming a few feet away from her desk suffused the teachers’ room with warmth, if also a cloying smell of gas. Jordan finished marking the last vocabulary test in the stack and lifted her gaze from her work.

  Mr. Mori was the only other teacher at their group of desks. As usual, he didn’t appear receptive to chatting, leaning over his papers with his glasses perched on the edge of his nose.

  Over Mr. Mori’s shoulder, Jordan could see part of the soccer field—brown with cold—the low-crouched hills, and another section of the school, which was something like a mirror image. By looking straight out the window in front of her, Jordan could see inside another room at the opposite end of the U-shaped building.

  The other room had collapsible walls, few pieces of furniture, and no blackboard—seldom used except for the occasional student council meeting or other impromptu activities. Jordan grinned as she remembered her surprise when, one day, she had looked up from her papers only to be faced with the junior boys stripping down to their undershorts, their locker room out of service.

  Now, Jordan was intrigued to see a large group assembled in that room. Such gatherings weren’t unusual during break times, but the students were keenly interested in something, all forming a haphazard circle to face the middle of the room. One student shifted his weight and Jordan glimpsed a flurry of activity at the center—white shirtsleeves and flailing limbs flashed between the onlookers like paper caught in a gust of wind. Over the hum of the heater, she heard muffled shouts and cheers.

  “I…think there’s a fight,” Jordan said hesitantly to Mr. Mori and pointed out the window.

  “What’s that?” Mr. Mori sounded disinterested, but once he followed Jordan’s gaze to the scene, he jumped to his feet. At that same moment, a first-grade girl threw open the door to the teachers’ room without so much as a greeting and scurried to the head desk.

  “Vice Principal Nakamura, come quick! Kenji-senpai and Tadao-senpai are fighting.”

  Jordan’s ears perked at mention of Kenji, and she quickly followed the student, Ms. Nakamura, and Mr. Mori out of the teachers’ room and down the hall. The commotion of excited voices and wordless shouts from the observers and combatants rushed into Jordan as they approached the huddled group.

  Without a word, Ms. Nakamura grasped the shoulders of one boy and began to move him aside. The boy whipped his head around with a look of annoyance aimed at whomever was disrupting the show, but his expression melted into one of cowed fear when he saw the vice principal. He slunk back, pulling worriedly at his friend’s sleeve as he retreated. Everyone nearby soon followed suit, peeling away to create a small opening for the adults to pass through.

  Either Kenji and the other boy did not notice the interruption or they were too embroiled to care. Kenji threw a wild punch at the taller boy, who dodged easily, mostly because another student was hanging on Kenji’s side, pulling and urging him to stop. Both boys were utterly disheveled—shirts pulled out of waistbands, hair mussed—and Kenji wiped at a trickle of blood from his nose. Tadao balled his hand into a fist and made a move to strike but stopped upon noticing the change in the room. He looked at the silent students with confusion until his eyes fell on the vice principal. Instantly, he dropped his hands to his sides and bowed in her direction.

  Kenji paused, seemingly tempted to lash out while his opponent’s defenses were down, but instead turned to see Ms. Nakamura’s stormy visage. A look of worry and panic crossed his face before he, too, offered an apologetic bow. He bent so deeply that his hair almost brushed the floor.

  “Vice Principal Nakamura, please—”

  “Be silent,” she said and glared. Kenji swallowed. “Everyone else, leave.” The students who had not already crept to the door hurried away, more than happy to increase the distance between them and the older woman. Kenji sniffled wetly as a fresh ribbon of blood trailed down his face; he swiped at it with an already reddened shirtsleeve. Ms. Nakamura barked out her next command. “Mori-sensei, take Tadao-kun to Principal Kikuchi. Jordan-sensei, you may return to the teachers’ room.”

  Jordan hesitated for a moment, wishing to discover just what had happened. But Ms. Nakamura was unkind on even her best days and was clearly not in a mood to be contested, so Jordan reluctantly obeyed. Tadao shuffled to Mr. Mori, who peered at the student disapprovingly over his glasses. Jordan followed them to the door.

  As she turned to slide the door shut, Kenji caught her eye, looking both contrite and pleading, as though she could somehow help. Jordan mouthed, “I’m sorry,” with an apologetic look, leaving him alone with the vice principal.

  Mr. Mori and the other boy were already turning the corner down the hall. Instead of returning to her desk, however, Jordan scanned the dispersing students for anyone she could ask about the incident. She was confident she could eventually get the story out of Kenji, but curiosity gnawed at her, making her both tense and excited. Just down the hall, she spotted Akira’s gangly figure shuffling away and hurried to meet him, calling out to get his attention.

  “Akira!” She continued forward quickly, and he smiled to see her. “Did you see the fight just now?”

  “Yeah! Pretty intense,” he said and ran a hand through his straight hair. His eyes drifted off to the side as though he could still see the tussle, looking almost awestruck. “I di
dn’t know Kenji-senpai had it in him.”

  “Do you know what they were fighting about?”

  “I’m not sure…They were already going at it by the time I heard shouting,” he said, and as he thought of it, he became more animated and excited. Jordan doubted Ogawa High School saw many fights. “Actually, Tadao-senpai did say something.”

  “Yes?” She leaned forward. Akira hesitated and looked at his feet. “It’s all right, Akira. I’d like to know what he said.”

  “Well, after he landed that wicked punch on Kenji-senpai, Tadao-senpai said, ‘You really are a homo.’” Akira spoke in a whisper and looked about nervously as though he were in trouble. “Kenji-senpai got really mad, but Tadao’s always saying things like that, just because he’s bigger than everyone.”

  “He’s a regular bully then?”

  “Yeah, you could say that. Everyone knows he’s a real jerk, and Kenji-senpai is usually so cool… Must’ve gotten under his skin today.”

  Jordan nodded thoughtfully. “Thanks, Akira. You’d better head to class now—lunch break will be over soon.”

  “Okay, Jordan-sensei. See you later.” He waved and loped away through the empty hallway. Jordan hadn’t taken more than two steps toward the teachers’ room when she heard the echoing footfalls of someone running up behind her.

  “Sensei!” It was Ryusuke, barreling clumsily toward Jordan like a retriever after a tennis ball. “Sensei, what happened? Where’s Kenji?” Jordan relayed what little she knew, including what Akira had told her. Ryusuke’s eyes went wide with concern when he heard that Kenji had been left to the vice principal. He stared intently at the door, as though he could divine what was occurring behind its wood panels.

  “Tadao, that asshole,” he said suddenly and with more venom than she thought Ryusuke capable of mustering. “Dammit, I should’ve been there.”

  “Ryusuke, then you would have only gotten in trouble too.” She smiled gently. “Come on. It’s not your fault.”