by Riku Onda
“It’s so hot and humid, isn’t it?It smells like rain. There’ll be a heavy shower before too long.” Hisayo pulled a cotton handkerchief from her purse-shaped lace handbag and fanned her neck. A pleasant scent wafted from it.
“What do you mean, it smells like rain?”
“Gosh… it’s the smell of rain clouds in the distance coming closer.” Hisayo tilted her head slightly to one side. Perhaps it was due to her having to compensate for her lost sight ever since she was small, but Hisayo’s senses were in a class of their own. The smells, sounds and feel of things that other people took for granted or gave little thought to seemed fresh and new when she gave comment on them.
Hisayo appeared to be listening intently. After a while she turned to the girl and said, “Is your mother out?”
“Yes. How did you know?”
“Because I can’t hear any of the sounds a woman usually makes when she’s at home. The small rhythmic sounds of somebody at work. Women make them when they move about in their own home, feeling safe and relaxed.”
Hisayo’s voice sounded like beautiful music to the young girl. She had once heard somebody say that Hisayo could see with her hands and face. Apparently there were people in foreign countries who could read print with the tips of their fingers. Not Braille. They really had cells in the fingertips that functioned like optic nerves. Maybe she had the same kind of cells in her body, one of the girl’s classmates had said in all seriousness.
The girl had once witnessed Hisayo and Sei-ichi playing shogi together. “It’s easy if you remember the position of the pieces on the board. You can tell what each shogi piece is by touching it. Chess pieces too, that’s why it’s easy,” Hisayo had said, but anyone could see that she had an extraordinary memory in addition to her rare ability to recreate a three-dimensional world inside her head from very few clues. Sei-ichi had lost that match, no doubt because he was too self-conscious in Hisayo’s presence.
The young girl wished that she could see inside the older girl’s head. What did the world look like to her? How did she see other people and the neighbourhood in her mind? The girl was sure it must be a boundless mysterious world that no one else could ever imagine or share. She stared at Hisayo’s head; it was so small, yet it contained so much.
“Oh, by the way, Jun was just at our house. I heard him at the back door.” Hisayo spoke as if she had just remembered something.
“I knew it.” The girl’s voice was resentful. If Jun was at the house with the porthole windows, she wanted to be there with him. Her brother always went off by himself, leaving his little sister behind while he cheekily contrived his way into where all the fun was.
The girl felt the faint prickle of goosebumps rising, as if the temperature had dropped all of a sudden, and she sensed Hisayo’s expression turning serious in that moment.
“Maki, I think it’s best if you don’t come to our house today,” Hisa said sternly.
“What?” The young girl looked up at Hisayo, who sat facing straight ahead, staring outside with her unseeing eyes. From side-on her profile looked like a marble statue. “Why not?” the girl asked. Hisayo had never spoken so severely to her before.
“Just a feeling,” Hisayo said matter-of-factly, in much the same tone as she might say it smelled like rain. “Tell Jun and anyone else too. The house is full of grown-ups from all over today, and some of them aren’t keen on children, so it won’t be any fun. The three of you can come over another time. I’ll buy a log cake when you do.”
The local cake shop’s popular chocolate log cakes were delicious and also fun to share.
The girl nodded reluctantly. “All right.”
“Don’t come near our house today. Promise me,” Hisayo reiterated, grasping her cane to stand up.
“Why not?” the girl persisted.
Hisayo went still, a thoughtful expression on her face. “It’s just a feeling. But I think bats might come.” And with this enigmatic comment, she quietly departed through the front door. Once outside she abruptly turned her face up towards the red crepe myrtle flowers. Apparently she knew the tree was in bloom. Hisayo’s senses were so keen that without the cane few would have noticed that she was blind.
I think bats might come.
Hisayo often said this to express a sense of foreboding. She had a number of idiosyncratic sayings that she never attempted to explain, probably because she did not expect anybody to understand. These were baffling upon first hearing, but people would gradually become used to her manner of speaking and imagine that they were vaguely able to picture what she meant. It can only be supposed, however, that they actually did understand; for all anyone knew, what Hisayo pictured in her mind could have been wildly different. It was undeniable, however, that Hisayo’s sayings added a certain mystique to her attraction.
Having lost her sight when she was small, could she have ever really seen bats? The young girl pictured bats with wings like a black umbrella. There were lots of bats in this area that came out in swarms in the evenings. For some reason the sight of them flapping about made the girl think of picture books showing star constellations. Perhaps it was their flight path as they wheeled and turned that reminded her of the lines connecting the stars.
The young girl remained sitting in the entrance hall, watching Hisayo’s retreating back as she digested the older girl’s parting words and recent presence beside her.
A cool scented breeze gently brushed her cheeks.
“Maki! What are you doing sitting here in the dark reading? You’ll ruin your eyes!” It was the girl’s mother, who had arrived home holding a small box in her hands. When the girl saw the traditional celebratory wrapping on it she realized that her mother had been to the birthday celebrations at Hisayo’s house. The fact that her mother was dressed more smartly than usual in a white blouse and tight navy skirt also lent weight to this impression.
All of a sudden, the tempo of the house adjusted to her mother’s presence. The girl lost interest in reading her book and went inside. She opened up the small box on the table while her mother went about putting the kettle on to boil. Inside were two compact, neatly packaged sweet manju buns filled with bean paste, one pink and one white.
“Don’t eat them, Maki,” the girl’s mother cautioned when she turned around and saw the open box. “That’s from Dr Aizawa’s house, and I want to show your father first. It’s times like this I wish we had a family altar to put it on.”
“I didn’t eat anything.” The girl replaced the lid. She had only wanted to look inside.
At that moment, Junji came hurtling through the front door. “Wow, you should see – it’s amazing! There’s loads of sweets,” he said in a breathless rush to his sister. His eyes shone with excitement.
She knew immediately he was talking about that house.
“They said to come over. There are cakes and tea at the back door. Bring everyone, they said.”
“Jun, don’t go making a nuisance of yourself there today when they’re so busy.”
“Don’t worry, Mum. All the adults are out the front but us kids are out the back. Everybody’s there. Tasuku asked me to go back again. Otherwise it’s too boring with just the grown-ups.”
Junji spoke in a rush. He loved festive occasions, and big gatherings of people even more. Tasuku was the youngest boy in the Aizawa house.
Bitterness welled up in the girl. She had promised not to go near that house today. Hisayo’s words weighed heavily on her, but she was in a quandary: should she mention it to Junji or not? Conflicting emotions smouldered in her breast; she wanted to boast about talking with Hisayo all by herself and nursed a strong desire to visit the house today, but at the same time felt obliged to keep her promise. While Junji continued to chatter away excitedly, the girl absent-mindedly made her way to the entrance hall, put on her shoes and wandered out the door.
“Promise me.” Hisayo’s voice echoing in the girl’s head did not prevent her feet from pointing themselves in the direction of that house
. She felt sweat break out on her skin. She would simply take a peep from a distance; that would be all. She would not go in; that would not be breaking her promise to Hisayo. Or so the young girl told herself.
Along the way, she passed elderly people carrying the same small box as her mother had brought home. Everybody was going to that house. The girl felt left out; she was the only one who had not yet been there.
She walked at a steady pace in the opposite direction to the flow of human traffic. The wind was gradually picking up, bending the roadside tree branches, and she felt occasional spots of rain. She saw people clutching boxes of manju buns to their chests as they hurried home to beat the rain.
When she arrived at the house with the porthole windows she saw that many people were still there, with the elderly guests sitting conversing on stools that had been set out for them. The white crepe myrtle in front of the clinic also caught her attention through the crowd. The gay atmosphere sent a thrill of pleasure through the girl, but at the same time it made her nervous. It was in every way an adults’ world, with the men dressed formally in suits and women in kimonos.
In trepidation, the girl made her way around towards the back entrance. The house was bordered on three sides by roads, with the back entrance leading off a lane that separated it from the neighbour’s house. The sound of children’s voices coming from that direction made her relax slightly.
She saw children playing hopscotch in the lane on a grid marked in chalk, and stood at the entrance to the alley, hiding from sight as she watched them. The voices of other children floated out through the open roof-covered gateway. Women in aprons stood about chatting near stacks of beer cases, and she could see bananas and packets of thin-sliced rice cake laid out on a table covered with plastic cloth. Those must be the treats that Junji had mentioned.
“Promise me.”
Hisayo’s voice echoed in her head. What if she were seen loitering here? The girl’s heart pounded. A fair-complexioned boy poked his head through the gate, glanced her way and spotted her almost at once. Startled, she prepared to flee, but he came bursting through the gate.
“Maki, come on in, there’s loads to eat,” he said with a smile, gesturing in invitation for her to enter.
The boy wore a white short-sleeved shirt and grey trousers held up by braces. This was Tasuku, the youngest Aizawa child. The Aizawa siblings were all fair-skinned with refined features. In addition, Tasuku exuded an air of well-bred good humour that set him apart from the other local children.
“Mm, but —” she mumbled.
“On a day of celebration such as this we have to share with others,” said Tasuku, sounding very grown-up. He must have picked up this phrase from the adults.
“Well, just for a little while.” The girl looked about nervously as she followed him, trying to be inconspicuous.
As they passed through the threshold of the gate she felt something underfoot. Looking down, she saw an old red toy car on the ground. Someone must have lost it.
“Tasuku, is this yours?” asked the girl, picking up the dirt-covered toy. She showed it to him.
“No, it’s not mine. Somebody must have dropped it. Who does this belong to?” Tasuku called out in his limpid voice. Four or five children gathered near the back door all shook their heads when they saw the toy car.
“Not mine.”
“Nah, never seen it.”
“I’ll keep it then. If you hear anyone’s lost it, say I’ve got it.” Tasuku brushed the dirt off the car and put it into his pocket with a responsible, grown-up air.
“Oh look, it’s Maki. Hello, dear,” said one of the women when she noticed the girl. “Jun was here just a little while ago.”
The speaker was Kimi, an ample, welcoming woman in her fifties who had been coming to clean at the Aizawa house for many years. The neighbourhood children were all fond of her.
“He’s home now.”
“What a funny lad. Only a short time ago he was here for a spell, chatting away and having a great time. He certainly is busy.” Kimi chuckled. She pulled a cellophane packet of lemonade-flavoured Ramune sweets from her apron pocket and put it in the young girl’s hand.
“Me too. I want Ramune sweets too.” Tasuku put out his hand for some as well.
“You already ate plenty,” Kimi said sternly.
“Isn’t this supposed to be a day for sharing?” Tasuku jiggled impatiently.
“Well, just one more then,” Kimi said, putting another in his hand. She could never resist spoiling Tasuku. He was obviously aware of this and knew he could get his way.
“Come on, Maki. Let’s eat.”
“Okay.”
The pair squatted at the back door and opened their packets. They thrust a handful of sweets into their mouths and the small pill-shaped candy stuck to their tongues, dissolving in the back of their throats with a sweet-sour fizz.
“Wow, there are lots of people here today.”
“Yeah. Some city councillors came before, and they were bowing like crazy to Grandpa.”
“What about Hisa?”
“She went out and hasn’t come back yet.”
The girl relaxed slightly. She resolved to be careful not to run into Hisayo on her way home.
“Oh!” An abrupt gust of strong wind snatched the cellophane packet from the girl’s hand.
Hastily they jumped to their feet, but the packet had already disappeared over the fence.
“It’s going to rain soon. I wish it wouldn’t.”
“Everything will be spoiled.”
The two stood staring up in the direction the cellophane wrapper had disappeared. Swirls of inky clouds rolled furiously across the sky, rapidly changing shape before their eyes.
In the alley a motorbike engine sputtered and came to a stop. “Flower delivery,” said the middle-aged man who dismounted, dripping with sweat and holding a bunch of lilies wrapped in white paper. “Delivery for the elder doctor, from Dr Terada of the Citizen’s Hospital.”
“Thank you very much.” Kimi had put on sandals and come out to receive him.
The man removed his helmet and nodded in greeting. “Congratulations of the day.”
“Thank you.”
“You must have been busy all morning.”
“Yes, we certainly have been. I’m run off my feet.”
“Must be a happy occasion for the doctor to be blessed with them children. But his mother celebratin’ her eighty-eighth at the same time is really summin’ special. That makes ’er special. And a son and grandchild with the same birthday… well, that does make ’em different from ordinary folks.”
“How’s your mother doing?”
“Oh, she has ’er ups and downs. It’s this weather, you know. ’Ard on the old folks, it is.”
“Well, give your wife my respects. And thank you.”
“I’ll be off then.”
The engine roared to life again, then faded into the distance.
“It’s been like this all day, people bringing flowers and sake,” Tasuku muttered, with just a tiny hint of pride.
“Wow.”
Child as she was, the girl nevertheless grasped the tremendous influence and power of the Aizawa family, not to mention the gap between herself, an outsider, and Tasuku on the inside.
The last remaining sweet on her tongue grew bitter.
Kimi shook the water from the bunch of flowers and placed them in a bucket next to the back door. There were already three full buckets of flowers.
“Maki, take some flowers home with you later, dear. The house is overflowing with them,” Kimi said, holding the lily stems over a burner.
“Are you cooking the flowers?” the girl asked in surprise.
Kimi looked at her quizzically, then smiled kindly. “No, dear. Scorching stems on cut flowers makes them last longer.”
“Oh.”
Peeking through the window, the girl saw several women in long-sleeved aprons bustling about the kitchen. A row of ceramic sake decanters testif
ied to the numerous visitors. There was also a line of several stem vases on the table, waiting for flowers to be arranged in them. The girl’s eyes were drawn to a beautiful blue glass vase that sparkled more radiantly than all the others beneath the fluorescent light.
I want that. She was seized with an abrupt, powerful desire to possess it.
“Here comes my sister.”
The girl started at the sound of Tasuku’s voice. She turned to see him craning his neck in the direction of the road. Moving to his side, she saw Hisayo come through the front entrance by the clinic and smilingly greet visitors. The girl observed how they responded with broad smiles in return and surrounded her. Although still a teenager and closer in age to their grandchildren, Hisayo was poised enough to hold her own with any adult. She had a mysterious presence that seemed to compel people to treat her with veneration, like a shrine maiden. She in turn received this treatment with the appropriate dignity.
The young girl was puzzled to notice that Hisayo was empty-handed. She held nothing except the lace handbag. Hadn’t Hisayo said she had gone out to collect the sweets? Or had that just been an excuse?
“Tasuku, I’m going home.”
“Hah? Already?”
“Don’t tell Hisa I was here, okay?”
“Why not?”
“Please?”
Tasuku looked put out, but the girl ignored him and left smartly through the back gate. Though logically she knew that Hisayo would not be able to find her at such a distance, the girl could not help feeling uneasy. Being Hisayo, she was bound to notice. Here in her own home, she would surely pick up signs of the young girl’s furtive visit, even from afar. The girl set off in the direction of home and sighed with relief once the festive atmosphere of the Aizawa house was behind her.
Then the rain came down.
No sooner had she noticed a few wet drops borne on the wind than they turned into a drenching torrent. The girl began to run. In no time at all her canvas shoes were soaking wet and the landscape was transformed. Passers-by bent over and scurried along, shopkeepers hurried to cover up displays outside their stores with plastic sheets, and people shifted their bicycles out of the rain. The girl ran as fast as she could through the monochrome scene.