by Asha Lemmie
At once she felt her guilt flare up. “I’m sorry, I . . . I didn’t . . .”
“No, no, no need. I won’t keep you. But if you ever have a free afternoon, I would be honored if you would stop by my shop.” He smiled at her again. “I think you will be impressed. I have a large collection of rare and beautiful things.”
She inclined her head. He swept her another bow and disappeared back into the crowd.
She felt Akira tap her lightly on the top of her head. “Aho. Why are you standing in the middle of the road?”
“Gomen, Oniichan. I didn’t notice.”
He handed her a blue paper lantern with a lit candle already inside. “Are you ever going to tell me what you wish for?”
Nori was indignant. “No!”
He laughed at her. “Well, get on with it. We should get home before it gets too late.”
She squeezed her eyes shut and let the lantern float upwards until it was lost among all the others and there was no way of telling them apart.
Dear God,
Please don’t change anything. This is just fine.
Ai,
Nori
She opened her eyes and yawned.
“Home?” Akira asked.
She nodded.
“Well then, you walk ahead. You should know the way.”
Nori hesitated. “I twisted my ankle.”
Akira frowned. “How?”
“I tripped. Back there.”
He rolled his eyes.
“Come on. I’ll carry you.”
She tried not to look eager but obviously failed.
Akira shifted his pack to the front to make room for her on his back. “It’s just for today. Ne?”
“Mm-hm.”
“I mean it, Nori. It’s ridiculous.”
“I know, Nii-san.”
He crouched down, and she hopped onto his back, wrapping her arms and legs around him like a koala clinging to a sturdy branch.
They walked all the way home like that, and she let herself drift into a half sleep, basking in the smell of his bath soap and the smoky aroma of barbecued meats from the festival.
They went in through the back gate, through the garden. He laid her underneath her favorite tree, and she realized that he had never stopped watching her. He still knew her better than anyone. The rift that had been growing between them had all but mended, without a single word needing to be said.
He handed her a lollipop. “Don’t stay out here too long.”
Nori smiled up at him. “Strawberry?”
“Of course. Oyasumi.”
“Good night.”
She watched him slide open the wooden screen door. The light hit him and his shadow fell over her. Then the door shut and he was gone.
Nori finished her candy and watched the stars. She liked to imagine that if she could climb to the very top of the old tree, she would be able to grab hold of them and stitch them together.
What a fine cloak that would be.
She laid her face against the tree. It wouldn’t hurt to close her eyes for just a little bit. She would go to sleep in a while, but out here, with her face towards the sky, she felt so gloriously free.
She did not hear the footsteps. By the time her eyes opened, there was already a body on top of hers. She could smell smoke.
Even before her eyes adjusted, she knew it was Will.
“Oh, Will,” she sighed. “You scared me.”
He rubbed his nose against her hair. “Do I frighten you, little kitten?”
She felt a flash of irritation. “Not so little anymore. Get off.”
He ignored her protests and kissed her. She allowed it for a moment before pulling away.
“You’re drunk,” she said, not bothering to hide her distaste. “You taste like sake.”
He kissed her again, deeper this time. She could feel his hips grinding against hers. She tried and failed to wriggle free. She had never allowed him more than the occasional furtive grope over her dress. She wrestled her mouth away from him so that his kisses fell on her cheek.
“Will, that’s enough.”
“You’re always saying ‘not so little,’” he hissed. “But you’re still afraid. Just like a child.”
“I’m not a child!” she protested.
“Then do you feel for me no longer?” he asked, and he sounded genuinely hurt. It was rare for him to be genuine about anything.
She hesitated. She could not deny that he inspired something in her that could only be called affection. But he was turning out to be more than she could handle.
His cruelty towards Alice and his love of mind games hinted at something that frightened her.
“I don’t know, Will,” she whispered. “I don’t think . . . we should keep doing this.”
His face was half hidden by shadow, but there was no mistaking the rage on it. “So you’re taking her side, then?”
“I’m not taking anyone’s side. Alice is my friend—”
He growled. “And what am I?”
She recoiled now. “Will, you’re hurting me. Hanashite. Let me go.”
“I saw you first.”
“Will, this has nothing to do with—”
He bit her shoulder so hard that she cried out. “You aren’t going to take the word of that stupid slut,” he whispered. “You aren’t. Not after all I’ve done for you.”
She felt the tears forming at the corners of her eyes and tried to hold them back. This was William. He was a wealthy gentleman. He was her brother’s best friend. He was Alice’s cousin.
And he had been something to her too. He had been kind. He wouldn’t hurt her.
“William,” she said, and she was proud, so proud, that her voice did not waver. “You know that I care for you. Truly. We can talk about this in the morning. I promise.”
His grip on her wrists loosened. Her breath hitched.
“It’s okay, Will,” she soothed. “It’s all right. I just need to go to bed now. I promised Akira, ne? Please just—”
It was exactly the wrong thing to say. His grip tightened again, and this time, it was like steel.
He lowered his face onto hers, and all she could see were those blue eyes, blazing with cold fire. Her voice left her. She felt herself turn to stone.
“ ‘Akira, Akira,’” he mocked her, with his mouth pressed against her ear. “That’s all you can ever say. Do you have a brain inside your head, little girl? Do you have a single thought of your own?”
Speak. You have to speak.
Will’s fingers moved swiftly. He had beautiful hands. Perfect piano fingers. Perfect.
“Time to grow up, kitten.”
Her eyes would not close. All she could see was the blue.
Blue, like sapphires. Blue, like the car in my dreams. Blue, blue, blue.
Vaguely, she felt the fabric of her kimono as it slid up her thighs and across her belly. She heard the jingle of a belt buckle as it came undone. She heard an owl cry out.
And then there was red.
The pain was sharp. It knocked the wind out of her, and all she could manage was a low whimper. Her muscles contracted, protesting this new invasion, but still her eyes would not close.
Speak.
She could feel a solitary tear pooling at the base of her neck.
Speak.
“Now you’re a woman,” he whispered, his breath coming faster and faster. “And now you are mine.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
NIGHT SONG
Tokyo, Japan
July 1956
Sixteen now,” Akira mused. He held up his glass, and Ayame refilled it. “That was fast.”
Not so fast, Nori thought. The sunlight was pouring down on her, but her skin still felt cold. The locket Akira had given her this morni
ng was cool against her neck. It was white gold, with a treble clef engraved on the front of it. When he’d handed it to her, she’d thanked him politely, like a grown-up. Then she’d cried in her room for half an hour.
Now they were sitting on the patio having an early dinner in her honor. Akira had hired a real chef for the occasion. Alice was wearing her new red yukata, tied properly now. She was seated beside Nori and squeezed her friend’s hand underneath the table.
There were no secrets between them anymore. They spent their days together, and often they had the house to themselves.
Akira had finished secondary school with honors and was now an official member of the Tokyo Philharmonic, the youngest member at only twenty years old. He was relegated to third chair first violin, but he did not seem bothered. In his mind, this was only a stepping-stone to far greater things. Nori was desperately grateful that he had chosen a local posting and did everything she could to make Japan appealing to him. Namely, she tried not to annoy him very much.
Yuko had started to make overtures, routinely sending gifts of money and cards imploring Akira to return to Kyoto. He gave the money to Nori and burned the cards unopened.
He had their mother’s inheritance now. He would never need money again.
Will was constantly traveling and was sometimes away for weeks or even months. A pity he was here today. He’d cut short a stay in Brussels to attend. For her benefit entirely, he claimed.
Nori had her doubts.
Without his disapproving gaze, Alice had flourished, and Nori could clearly see the passionate, flighty girl she had once been. She had been careful to avoid any hint of scandal, not that anyone was likely to notice in this far-flung corner of the world. She had never bothered to learn Japanese, but Nori was happy to translate for her on their frequent shopping trips.
Nori slept in Alice’s bed a few nights a week, and they would stay up late reading through Seiko’s old diaries.
Akira turned to speak to Ayame, and Alice sneezed.
In that instant, Will’s eyes met hers.
No secrets.
Except for last night. Except for what happened two years ago and now happened nearly every month. Except for the way she tortured herself daily, agonizing over the insane mix of feelings that fought for dominance inside her.
Nori excused herself from the table and retreated to the bathroom off the kitchen. She caught a glimpse of her reflection and winced.
There was nothing visibly wrong with her. In fact, she looked rather well today. There was no sign of her sleepless nights.
She went to great lengths to conceal the truth from Akira. She didn’t want him to see.
But she could not help but be somewhat hurt that he had not.
The door opened and Will slipped inside. Without saying a word, he handed her his glass of plum wine.
“Thank you.”
He chuckled. “You could have chosen a better place to hide.”
She shrugged. There was no hiding. She was Alice’s friend, Will’s possession, and Akira’s ever-doting sister. She often felt that she was the only thing holding the entire ridiculous charade together. This makeshift family of exiles would collapse into nothing without her.
She downed the wine in one gulp. It burned the back of her throat, but the anxious knot in her belly began to loosen.
Will smirked. “Happy birthday, my love.”
She closed her eyes. Not for the first time, she felt an unworthy surge of affection for him. So much so that she tolerated his three a.m. visits to her bedroom in silence. But still, she had never been able to shake the feeling that something was deeply wrong. It was like a chill that never left her.
“You look tired,” he said, his voice tinged with sympathy.
“I am tired.”
He frowned and, without asking, moved to lift up the hem of her dress. She knew that he was eyeing the bright purple bruises on her skin.
“I told you to stop pinching yourself.”
Nori shrugged again. “And I told you I’d try.”
Will tsked. “I’m telling Akira. I warned you twice.”
She felt a ripple of irritation. Nori met his gaze full on. “Since we are in the business of telling secrets, perhaps I should speak to him too.”
He did not falter. “Akira adores me,” he said smugly. “He would never hear a word against me, kitten. You know that.”
Nori hesitated. “He . . . I . . . me too.”
Will’s eyes went dark. “Are you sure of that?”
The words died on her tongue, and she tasted ash. She was sure. But then he looked at her, far more confident than she could ever be, and she was laid bare. Like mercury, he slipped through the cracks of her certainty and found the poison seed of doubt.
He smiled at her, and his eyes lit up again. It was like a switch flipped on and off with him, all the time. It made her dizzy.
He took her hands and kissed them. “Don’t fret, little love. Don’t fret. I would never betray your secrets.” He played his trump card. “I love you, remember?”
She folded in on herself. She simply had no more fight left. It was so much easier to believe it.
“You do?”
“Of course I do,” he soothed. “That is why you must trust me. Only me. Always.”
* * *
It was another week before Nori could get a moment to herself. Will had left for a piano competition in Prague, and Alice was occupied writing desperate letters to London begging for forgiveness. Now that she was eighteen, she needed to return to London and court marriage prospects. Otherwise she would have no future at all.
Akira was home, for once, but he was locked in his room. All he said was that he was composing something. He would not say what, but whatever it was, it was consuming him. The trays of food she made for him were sent back uneaten.
Nori settled onto her new favorite tree branch. It was much higher than her old perch. Nobody could come up here after her.
The house had gone to sleep and now she was free. She opened the diary. It was the last one in the box, and as much as she loved Alice, she needed to read this one alone.
She had followed her mother through four years in Paris, caught up in a torrid love affair with a man who was never named. She had witnessed Seiko’s defiance, her refusal to return to Japan even after she was cut off. She had felt a jolt of pain when Seiko’s lover had turned out to be false, having been secretly engaged to another woman all along.
And now, as her mother ran out of money, ran out of friends, and ran out of hope, Nori could finally see the start of the transformation into the woman who’d birthed two children and abandoned them both.
It was time to finish the story.
December 15th, 1934
He won’t see me. He won’t even answer my letters, and anyway, I have no more money for postage. I have no more money for food. Mama will send me nothing else. Someone has told her what I have done—I don’t know who, she has her spies everywhere—and now she is insisting that I come home. She says that I am an old maid at twenty-two and that if I tarry much longer no one will want me. She says I am used goods and I must come home.
I will not.
They tell me he is married now. I refuse to believe it. He wouldn’t do it. He wouldn’t do it. His wicked mother may be able to keep him from me, but he would never marry another woman. He was engaged to her, I know this now, but he never loved her. How can he have loved her if he never mentioned her to me? In four years?
He promised me he’d love me forever.
It cannot be. Life is different here. Love is different here. For the first time, I can see how marriage can be a marvel, a safe haven in a dangerous world. It is not a meat market, or a sentence to a slow death.
A marriage of true souls is just below the angels. And he taught me this, he believes this too. I know he do
es.
So I know that he will not marry her just to please his mother. The landlords say they will have me thrown out onto the street if I do not pay soon.
They will not.
The world will be as I say it is. I am Seiko Kamiza, the only heir to my house and ancient name. I am blessed. I am favored by God.
He would never forsake me this way. He would not.
* * *
January 1st, 1935
He has married her. They tell me she is already pregnant.
My letters were all sent back unopened. His mother has left a message with my landlords. She says that if I try to see him, she will have the police throw me in jail before sending me back to my filthy heathen island.
Mama has sent me a one-way boat ticket back to Kyoto. It leaves next week.
I can’t go. I can’t be caged again. I swear I will die.
I will throw myself into the pond and drown. Then they will all be very sorry they treated me so horribly.
My love, my false, lying love, will find my body and think, “See. Look what I have done.”
Papa will be sorry that he never loved me for being a girl.
And Mama will be sorry for nothing because she thinks her will is God’s will and so she can never be wrong.
And I will not be sorry either for I will be dead and past my pain. Good riddance.
* * *
January 10th, 1935
I can see the ocean from my cabin. I can think of nothing but drowning. I imagine it would hurt for a while. But then the pain would stop forever.
I heard of a girl who hung herself but I would not like the marks on my neck, so I cannot do this.
I have lost. Mama has won, as she always does.
I have buried my girlhood in Paris. I return to Japan as a woman, with all the bitterness that comes with it.
I have no place outside of my name. I thought I could carve one, I truly did, and for a moment I thought . . . but . . . that woman laughed at my hopes and called me a savage. I loved her son, I would have died for him, but all she saw was a foreign whore.