Nori began to rock slowly back and forth, willing the constant motion to steady her shaking core. After a few moments, the pain had subsided just enough so that she could manage opening her eyes. She watched as Akiko washed the mixture of warm water, bleach, and murky specks of almond-colored skin—her skin—down the drain.
“Is it working, do you think?” she inquired, resenting the eagerness that crept into her voice. “Akiko-san, do you think it’s working?”
Akiko turned to look at the child who had been left to her care. Nori couldn’t read the look on her face. But then Akiko offered up a tiny smile, and Nori was flooded with relief.
“Yes, little madam, I think so. Your grandmother will be pleased.”
“Do you think I shall have a new dress?”
“Perhaps. If she gives me the money for fabric, I will make you a summer yukata. Your old one scarcely fits you anymore.”
“I would like blue. It is a noble color, isn’t it, Akiko-san?”
Akiko lowered her eyes and proceeded to re-dress Nori in a fresh cotton slip. “Blue would look very pretty on you, little madam.”
“It is Obaasama’s favorite color.”
“Yes. Now, run along. I’ll bring you your meal in an hour.”
Nori forced her limbs to move, ignoring the dull thump of pain. They were working, she knew they were, the daily baths. Her grandmother had sent all the way to Tokyo for the finest magic bath soap that money could buy. Nori bore the pain willingly, as she knew in time that the results would be worth any sufferings. She would stay in the bath all day if Akiko would let her, but her skin was prone to burning and she was only allowed to stay in it for twenty minutes at a time. Her left leg had a mottled purple burn on it that she had to hide with extra-long skirts, but she did not mind so much because the skin around the burn was wonderfully fair and bright.
She wanted all of her skin to look like that.
She padded through the hall, careful not to make any noise because it was afternoon and her grandmother preferred to sleep in the afternoon. Especially in winter, when it was too cold to pay social visits and the sun set early.
She scurried towards the stairs to the attic, avoiding eye contact with the staff, who seemed to stare at her whenever she crossed their path. Even after two years living in this house, they were still clearly uneasy with her presence.
Akiko had assured her that it wasn’t that they didn’t like her; it was simply that they weren’t used to having children around.
Either way, Nori was relieved to live in the attic, away from everything and everyone else. When she had come to stay here, her grandmother had instructed that the attic be cleaned out and converted into living quarters.
The attic was very spacious, and it was full of things, more things than Nori had ever had before. She had a bed, a dining table and three chairs, a bookshelf, a basket full of knitting and sewing materials, a little altar for her prayers, a stove for the winter months, and an armoire to keep her clothes in. She had a small little vanity with a stool that, according to Akiko, had once belonged to her mother. She still had her brown suitcase with the purple silk ribbon tied around the handle. She still had the pale blue satchel with the little silver clasp. She kept these two things in a far corner of the room so that she would always know where to find them at a moment’s notice.
But her favorite thing, by far, was the half-moon-shaped window above her bed that overlooked the gardens. When she stood on the bed (which she was not supposed to do but she did anyway), she could see the fenced-in yard with its green grass and its overgrown, ancient peach trees. She could see the man-made pond with the koi fish swimming in it and splashing about. She could see the faint outline of neighboring rooftops. As far as Nori was concerned, she could see the entire world.
How many times had she spent all night with her head pressed against the cool, damp glass? Certainly very many, and she considered herself quite fortunate that she had never been caught. That would have been a guaranteed beating.
She had not been allowed to leave the house since the day she arrived. And it was not a terrible sacrifice, not really, because she had rarely been allowed to leave the apartment she’d shared with her mother either.
Still, there were rules, many rules, for living in this house.
The cardinal rule was simple: stay out of sight unless summoned. Remain in the attic. Make no sound. Food was brought to her at set intervals three times a day; Akiko would take her downstairs to the bathroom. During the midday trip, Nori would have her bath.
Three times a week, an old man with a hunched back and failing eyesight would come to her attic and teach her reading, writing, numbers, and history. This one did not feel like a rule—Nori liked lessons. In fact, she was quite gifted at them. She was always asking Saotome-sensei to bring her new books. Last week, he’d brought her a book in English called Oliver Twist. She could not read a single word of it, but she had resolved to learn. It was such a pretty book, leather-bound and glistening.
And so those were the rules. They weren’t too much to ask, she didn’t think. She didn’t understand them, but then, she didn’t try.
Don’t think.
Nori crept onto her small four-poster bed and pressed her face into the coolness of her pillow. It distracted her from her skin’s persistent tingling. The instinctual desire to escape from pain soon lulled her into a listless sleep.
She had the same dream as always.
She was chasing the blue car as it drove away, calling out for her mother, but could never catch it.
* * *
As long as she could remember, Nori’s limbs had been prone to disobedience. They would begin to shake, randomly and uncontrollably, at the slightest hint of trouble. She would have to wrap her arms around her body and squeeze as tightly as she could in order for the trembling to subside.
And so when Akiko informed her that her grandmother would be paying her a visit today, Nori felt her body go weak. She slunk into one of her small wooden dining chairs, no longer trusting her legs to support her.
“Obaasama is coming?”
“Yes, little madam.”
Her grandmother normally came once a month, sometimes twice, to inspect Nori’s living conditions and personal growth.
It seemed that no matter what she did, her grandmother was never pleased. The old woman had impeccable standards and her keen gray eyes never missed a beat. It filled Nori with as much exhilaration as it did dread.
To please her grandmother was a feat that she longed to accomplish. In her mind, it was the most noble of quests.
Nori swept her eyes around her room, suddenly painfully aware of how messy things were. There was a corner of faint yellow bedclothes sticking out. There was a speck of dust on the kerosene lamp on the nightstand. The wood burning in the stove was popping and cracking, a sound that some would surely find irritating.